


The Hale Pup

by GentlyWithAChainsaw



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Comeplay, Daddy/Baby, Diapers, Forced Orgasm, Forced infantilism, Frottage, Infantilism, Kidnapping, M/M, Mock breastfeeding, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pacifiers, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-17
Updated: 2017-12-03
Packaged: 2018-12-30 22:12:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 23,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12118290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GentlyWithAChainsaw/pseuds/GentlyWithAChainsaw
Summary: The Hale Pack needs a new member. Derek finds the perfect pup to bring home.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It's rude of me to begin another infantilism work when I still have a big one unfinished, but this has been sitting around for forever and I really want to get it finished.  
> For my usual readers, heads up that there are sexual elements to this story. Please heed the tags.  
> To readers I haven't met before: hi! This story is about forced infantilism, or somebody being treated like a baby against their will. Please heed the tags.  
> Also, the wonderful Udunie is currently running a very similar story out at their page, and it's amazing because everything they do it amazing. Find it here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/12082680. I almost didn't want to post this one because it's so similar to theirs, but I'm in the middle of a huge purge of half-written stories and had to get this monster finished.  
> Enjoy!

Stiles is only trying to make friends. That’s how it all goes wrong. 

He’d accepted an offer from some of the guys on his lacrosse team to go to a club in the city. It was stupid of him to think they were really offering to be nice, but he’s been so lonely since his best friend moved away. They’d said it would be fun. A bonding exercise. A chance for the whole team to unwind. 

Instead it had all been a big joke. They had gotten in using fake IDs Jackson had procured, but once they were inside the guys had turned on him, announcing him as “the sheriff’s kid” and yelling that he was some kind of narc. 

The bouncer had chased Stiles out before he had a chance to defend himself, and he’d just taken off running to try and escape the sound of Jackson and Greenberg’s laughter. 

And…now he’s lost. 

Awesome. 

He pulls out his phone again, debating whether or not to call his dad. He’ll get in massive trouble, of course, but he really doesn’t have many other options. The streets are mostly deserted, but the few people Stiles has seen so far convince him this isn’t really a good place to hang out at night. 

Still, he hesitates. That word “narc” still rings in his ears. He’s been mocked for being the sheriff’s kid all his life; it’s part of the reason he has no friends. He knows his dad will demand to hear the whole story, maybe even go to the club himself to bust them for letting in kids. 

He’s still debating, staring down at his phone thoughtfully, when he hears the sound of a car slowly coming down the street. He glances up, squinting into the headlights, and steps a little farther back onto the sidewalk. It’s past midnight. Only creeps are out driving the city streets this late. 

Much to his surprise the car stops next to him and the passenger side window rolls down. The driver looks out at him, dimly lit by streetlights. “Hey,” he says. “You okay?” 

Stiles stares back. The man’s features are familiar, and after a moment he recognizes him. “Derek?” he says in surprise. 

Then man’s eyebrows raise and Stiles is sure of it. Derek Hale. He’d been several years ahead of Stiles in school, but everyone knew him. He’d dropped out or moved away or something after a fire had burned down his house and killed most of his family. Stiles’ dad had been sure it was arson, but never found any proof. 

“Sorry,” Derek says. “Do we know each other?” 

Stiles blushes. Of course Derek doesn’t recognize him. Stiles had just been one of the dozens of elementary school students who completely hero-worshipped him—the high school’s best athlete and one of the most good-looking dudes Stiles had ever seen outside of a magazine. 

“I’m…the sheriff’s kid. You know. Stilinski.” He hates identifying himself as that, but it’s the only thing he can think to say that might make Derek remember him. 

“Oh, yeah. Right.” Derek peers around him. “Is he with you?” 

“No. I was just about to call him. I…I kind of got stuck out here.” Stiles rolls his eyes, trying to look blasé. “Long story.” 

“Do you want a ride back to Beacon Hills?” 

“I can’t ask you—” 

“I’m heading there myself. Just got off shift. I can drop you off at your house before I go home.” 

“I didn’t know you were in Beacon Hills,” Stiles blurts. “When did you get back?” 

“Oh, you know,” Derek says vaguely. “I’ve kind of been around. Come on, get in. You don’t want to wait around here for your dad to come. It isn’t safe.” 

That’s certainly true. Stiles pauses another moment, then opens the door and gets in. Derek’s seats are leather and luxurious. Not bad for an orphan. Stiles wishes he could tell his dad that Derek is clearly doing well for himself, but it’s probably best to pretend like this night never happened. 

Derek starts to drive down the street. Stiles opens his mouth to say something—probably just a bunch of babbled thank-yous—but before he can Derek looks over at him and sighs. “You need to buckle up,” he says scoldingly, reaching over to grab the belt himself. It’s a weirdly intimate move and Stiles feels so warm he doesn’t even want to look at Derek. He glances around the car and sees a car seat in the back. 

“Oh. You…you have a kid?” 

“A baby boy,” Derek murmurs as he finishes buckling Stiles in. 

“I didn’t know that. Did you marry that Argent girl?” He vaguely remembers that they were dating; she had been out of high school for a while so it was kind of a scandal. She had disappeared after the Hale fire, too. 

“I’m not married.” Derek turns on to the interstate. Stiles looks back at the car seat and frowns. It doesn’t look normal. It’s big, much too big for a baby, and there are way too many straps on it. 

“Wait, how old is your son?” 

“I didn’t say I had a son, I said I had a baby boy. Now hush.” 

A sick feeling starts in Stiles’ stomach. “I think I want to get out now.” His hand creeps towards the door handle, only to find it’s not there. It’s been broken off. 

“You can’t get out of the car,” Derek says patiently, as if he’s describing something to a small child. “You can’t be trusted to be on your own. You were wandering all over, completely at the mercy of any predator who wanted to take you. Thank God I got to you in time.” 

Stiles swallows around a sob. “Look, I don’t know what you want from me, but please don’t hurt me. I swear I’ll never tell anyone about this if you just let me go.” 

Derek is smiling tolerantly. “Nobody’s going to hurt you. Be a good baby now and just relax. You’re going to fall asleep soon, and then Daddy will buckle you into your carseat and take you home.” 

He reaches over to the air freshener attached to the dashboard and presses it, releasing a spray of air right into Stiles’ face. He immediately starts to feel light headed and he gags, turning his head away. “What are you doing?” he chokes out. “W-we’re going to crash.” 

“Shh. Don’t worry, it won’t affect me. It only works on humans.” 

Stiles can barely even focus on his words, he’s too busy fighting unconsciousness. 

“Go to sleep now, little boy. Papa is waiting for us at home.” 

These are the last words Stiles hears before he’s lost to the darkness. 

X 

When he wakes up again, he’s swaddled tightly in a blanket. There’s something over his eyes, so he can’t see, and everything feels tight and claustrophobic. He can feel the blanket against his skin, like he’s naked under it. 

He moans, but there’s something in his mouth. 

How could he have been so _fucking_ stupid? Derek had been so young, so… _hot_ that Stiles had thought he couldn’t possibly be a psychopath. Now he’s probably only seconds away from getting murdered or…or… 

The blindfold is ripped from his eyes so suddenly that he cries out in shock. “Peter!” he hears Derek’s voice say sharply. “You know babies need a little warning.” A warm, comforting hand rests on his stomach. “Shh, lovie, you’re all right.” 

Stiles blinks up to see Derek and another man standing over him. Derek is smiling, eyes soft and…adoring?...as he gazes down at Stiles. The other man has a twist to his mouth, like he’s amused by what he sees. 

And what he sees…Stiles looks to the side. Bars. He’s in a _crib_. He crosses his eyes so he can get a good look at what’s in his mouth, and sees the flat, colorful surface of a pacifier. 

He cries out again and tries to twist away from Derek’s hand, but he’s swaddled too tightly. Derek makes a soft sound of comfort and lifts him easily, cradling him against his chest. He tucks Stiles’ head into the hollow of his throat. There’s a deep rumbling in his chest, low and gentle. 

“I told you he’d be like this,” the other man says. 

“Of course he is. He’s brand new to the world. Listen to his heartbeat, he’s scared out of his mind.” Derek’s lips press against the top of his head. “Everything’s all right, angel. I’m right here. Daddy’s got you. Daddy and Papa love you so much.” His thumb brushes against Stiles’s cheekbone. “Look at his eyes,” he says to the other man. “Didn’t I tell you they were beautiful?” 

“Yes, Derek,” the other man says sarcastically. “So beautiful you decided on him without even consulting me. I’ve heard it already.” 

The rumbling in Derek’s chest picks up, becoming more threatening and making Stiles freeze in terror. Derek presses Stiles’s head closer against him and raises one hand to cover Stiles’ free ear, as if he’s trying to keep him from hearing. “Peter. Don’t say anything like that around him again. I won’t have him thinking he wasn’t wanted by both of us.” 

Peter raises an eyebrow but nods conciliatorily. Derek returns to staring down at Stiles, the most adoring little smile on his face. Stiles is paralyzed with fear. “You are so beautiful,” Derek whispers to him. “Oh, yes you are, my sweet boy.” 

“Did you happen to catch his name?” 

Derek shakes his head. “I think he went by a nickname. No idea what his real one was. We’ll find a good name for him, but that can come later. First we want Baby to feel nice and comfortable here with his daddies, don’t we?” Derek moves his hips a little, making Stiles sway in his arms. “Baby will love it here in no time,” he croons right into Stiles’ ear. “He’ll be so happy with Daddy and Papa. All he has to do is play and nap and be a good little pup for his new family.” 

Stiles can’t hold back a little moan of fright and Peter holds out his arms. “You’ve hogged him enough. Give him here.” 

“Gentle,” Derek cautions as he carefully transfers Stiles into Peter’s arms. 

“I know how to hold a baby, nephew, I never dropped _you_.” Peter’s arms aren’t nearly as gentle as Derek’s, and his gaze is far more calculating than adoring. He nuzzles against Stiles’ scalp with his nose, inhaling deeply. “All right,” he murmurs after a moment. “I’ll concede you knew what you were doing. He’ll work out just fine.” 

Stiles is shaking so badly that Derek reaches over to stroke his back soothingly. Long moments pass in Peter’s arms, until Peter finally gives him back to Derek. Derek kisses the top of his head. “Let’s feed him,” he suggests to Peter. “He’ll probably feel better with a full belly.” 

“He should see the house first. We put enough work into child-proofing it.” 

“That’s a good idea.” Derek’s nose gently nuzzles behind Stiles’ ear, a gesture that’s ticklish and oddly comforting. “What do you think, bunny? Should we take a little tour?” 

Stiles starts to shake his head desperately, but then he reconsiders. Getting out of this room and figuring out the surest route of escape is definitely in his best interest. He breaks off his head shaking and instead pretends he’s just nestling his cheek against Derek’s chest. 

“Here’s your nursery.” Derek props him up a little so he’s able to look around. The room is painted a soft blue, with butterfly wallpaper going all the way around. Along with the crib there’s a rocking chair, a bookshelf full of thin children’s titles, a toybox, a set of dressers, and a changing table. Stiles can see straps on the table and he looks away quickly, feeling dizzy with panic. 

“This is where you’ll take your naps during the day and have your quiet play time,” Derek continues. “You’re too little to have a full night’s sleep on your own, so for now you’ll sleep in a bassinet in one of our rooms. You’ll spend one night with Daddy and the next night with Papa. That way you’ll never have to worry about being alone.” 

Stiles’ gaze snags on a small camera with a blinking red light set up in the highest corner of the room. Peter follows his gaze and chuckles. “Your daddy insisted on that. He wants to make sure he has his eye on you every minute.” 

“Just because you’re such a cutie-pie,” Derek says quickly, presses a wet smooch to Stiles’ temple. “Let’s go see the downstairs now.” 

Derek doesn’t seem to have any problem carrying him out of the room, Stiles notes with some concern. The cheery feel of the nursery disappears as soon as they step into the hallway. Everything is dimly lit, and the wooden walls and floor are dark and looked streaked black. The ground creaks as they take the stairs and Stiles squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, wondering if they’re about to crash through the steps to the ground below. 

This place is practically decrepit. It should be condemned. After a moment, Stiles understands: he’s in the old Hale house. It’s been renovated only enough to make it livable, signs of fire damage still evident on the ceilings and floor. Have Derek and Peter been living here like this ever since the fire? No wonder they’ve gone crazy… 

“Here’s the living room,” Derek says, stopping in front of an archway. There’s a dusty chandelier—unlit—hanging from the ceiling, along with a single couch and rug and nothing else. It’s the loneliest room Stiles has ever seen. It also has the first large window Stiles has seen yet—wide glass showing a view of the woods. That’s right, the Hale house is miles into the woods. His heart sinks. The odds of someone stumbling across them here is almost nil, and he’ll have to run through the woods for a long time before he finds anyone. 

He also notes with some worry that it looks like early afternoon outside. Has he been asleep for most of the day? His dad must be so worried about him… 

“We don’t spend a lot of time in the living room,” Derek explains. “People might be able to see in through the window, so it’s not a safe place for our little bunny to play.” He kisses Stiles’ forehead again, evidently trying to be reassuring, and moves on. “Now, here’s the den.” 

The den has clearly been given the same kind of attention as the nursery. The walls are painted a pretty cream color, with a new-looking leather couch, an armchair, a television, a giant playmat, and a toybox twice the size of the one upstairs. 

“This is where Baby will play with his daddies,” Derek tells him. “Maybe tomorrow, when you’re feeling a little more comfortable, hm? We’ll have lots of fun in here.” 

Stiles whimpers. He doesn’t want to play. Does Derek really expect him to act like a baby? How long before that gets boring? What happens to him when their little fantasy breaks down? 

“He’s getting wiggly,” Derek says, adjusting Stiles in his arms as Stiles shivers with the horrible thoughts. “I think he wants his bottle now.” 

“I’ll heat it up.” Peter leaves the room while Derek takes a few more moments to rock Stiles in his arms, starting up that rumbling in his chest again. After Stiles has taken a few gulping breaths to calm down Derek carries him from the den into a large kitchen. 

This room has only been partly renovated—the appliances look new, but the walls look a little crumbly, and the woven rug on the ground can’t hide the scorch marks. Stiles’ attention goes to a large high chair set up in the middle of the room. 

Peter is at the stove, pouring what looks like a thick formula into a baby bottle. “Put him in the chair,” he says over his shoulder to Derek. 

“It’s probably better if—” 

“No, he needs to learn how things work. You can’t just hold him for everything.” 

Derek sighs but releases the tray of the high chair. He pulls the blanket swaddling Stiles aside and begins to lower him into the seat. Stiles tries to kick out at him but Derek is too quick, locking the tray back in before Stiles can even make contact. Stiles realizes that he’s dressed in a large, soft onesie with snaps all down the front, and, based on the crinkly sounds he’d heard when Derek moved him, he’s definitely wearing a diaper. They had taken his clothes off while he was asleep. 

“Okay, bunny,” Derek says gently as Peter carries the bottle over. “Let’s take out your paci so Papa can feed you.” 

Stiles looks at the bottle, full of God only knows what. Are they going to drug him again? Will he wake up in a few hours in an even _worse_ position? 

His panic swells again and when Derek takes the pacifier gag off he can’t hold back his terror. “No!” he screams, frantically trying to get out of the chair. “Help me! _Help me!_ ” 

Both Derek and Peter react immediately. Derek croons, eyes wide with sympathy, and reaches out for him, but Peter gets there first. He yanks back the tray and plucks Stiles from the chair, giving his bottom a sharp little slap. 

“Make those noises again and you’ll really have something to scream about,” he snarls into Stiles’ ear. Stiles freezes, chills running up his spine at the feral note in Peter’s voice. 

“Peter! He doesn’t know any better yet. Give him here.” Derek lifts him carefully from Peter’s arms. “Shh, love. You can’t make those big-boy noises anymore, all right? Daddy and Papa will take care of everything for you, so you don’t need to say a word.” 

“No,” Stiles wails. “Let me go home! I just want to go home, _please_ …” 

“Derek.” Peter’s voice is deadly. “Give him here. I’ll teach him how to behave. Go upstairs if you don’t want to watch.” 

Derek shakes his head. He puts his hand on Stiles’ back protectively, hiding Stiles’ face in his chest. “Shh, bunny,” he whispers. “You can be a good boy and drink your bottle without any fussing. Papa won’t need to punish you if you quiet down now. Can you do it for Daddy, lovie?” 

Stiles hiccups back a sob. He’s too afraid to even try and look at Peter. He already knows he’s too far away from civilization for his yelling to have any real effect. God only knows what kind of punishment Peter is planning… 

He nods slowly, too ashamed to try and look at either of them. Derek coos praise at him but doesn’t try to put him back in the high chair. Instead he carefully pokes the bottle into Stiles’ mouth while still holding him. Stiles sniffles loudly and reluctantly sucks. 

It’s like swallowing wet sand. He starts crying again before the bottle is half empty and pulls away from it. Derek tries to get him to drink more, but he can’t. He hides his face in Derek’s now-wet shirt. 

“I told you we should have gotten the flavored formula,” Derek says. 

“We’re not starting off by spoiling him. He’ll get used to it. Make sure he drinks it all, I don’t want it wasted.” 

Stiles keeps his mouth resolutely shut as Derek tries to poke the bottle in again. He strains away as best he can. 

“All right,” Peter says finally. “My turn.” 

Derek passes Stiles over, looking disappointed. Stiles feels even more vulnerable in Peter’s arms—he feels like Derek isn’t about to hurt him, but he isn’t sure about Peter. 

But Peter smiles at him and puts the bottle to his lips gently. “Here we go, little bunny,” he says. “Down the little red lane.” 

Stiles stares at him for a moment, trying to get the measure of him, and keeps his mouth closed. 

“Peter.” Derek sounds worried. “He has to eat.” 

“He will. Don’t worry, I know how babies are. You’re too young to remember how difficult your little brothers and sisters were. Sometimes they just need a little encouragement. A bit of play to go with their meals.” Peter looks down at Stiles, still smiling. “You want to have a little fun, pup? Let’s have fun.” 

He gives the bottle to Derek, then pinches Stiles’ nose shut. Stiles jerks, totally unable to breathe, and after a moment’s struggling he opens his mouth to suck in a breath. Derek immediately sticks the bottle in, tilting it so the formula runs into his mouth. Peter keeps his nose sealed so he has no choice but to gulp it down as quickly as possible. 

“There!” Peter says cheerfully when the bottle is empty. “Papa knew just what to do, didn’t I? Maybe you’ll listen to me next time he acts up.” 

Stiles gulps in a breath and starts to sob. Derek tries to reach for him but Peter only holds him closer, patting him firmly on the back until he’s finally cried himself out. 

X 

Eventually Peter takes him into the den. He lays him on top of the playmat, stretching out next to him on his side. 

“Your daddy thinks you should be spoiled,” he tells Stiles. “But I know why you’re acting up. This doesn’t feel like your pack yet. Most pups have a blood connection with their alphas, but you don’t.” His voice is compassionate. “That’s why we have our playtime in the den. You’ll feel like part of the pack in no time.” 

Stiles doesn’t understand any of what he means. He watches warily as Peter sits up and pulls Stiles partially into his lap. He undoes the snaps of Stiles’ onesie all the way down to the diaper around his ass and gently slides it off of him. 

Stiles looks down at himself. All of his body hair is gone. Did they do this to him while he was asleep? Did they do it _everywhere?_

Peter’s gaze is hungry. He traces with his finger down Stiles’ chest, dipping it just under the waist of the diaper. Stiles shivers at the contact, goosebumps popping out on his skin, and Peter chuckles. He leans down and licks the goosebumps on his arms. One hand pins Stiles into his lap, while the other squeezes the flesh of his ass through the diaper. 

Stiles whimpers through his pacifier and tries to struggle away. 

“Shh,” Peter says softly. His nose brushes against Stiles’ hairline. “Little pups need their playtime. Once you have your alphas’ scents on you you’ll feel much better.” 

Stiles hears footsteps and looks up to see Derek entering the room. He stares at Derek pleadingly, hoping Derek will yell at Peter again and save Stiles from him, but Derek only smiles and drops to his knees beside them. “Hi, beauty,” he murmurs, burying his own nose in Stiles’ hair. “Are you playing with your papa? Can Daddy play too?” 

Peter growls a little at that but shifts Stiles so he’s balanced on both their laps. Derek strokes Stiles’ hair, nuzzling his nose behind Stiles’ ear and against his temple, while Peter begins to unfasten the diaper. 

“There’s our lovely boy,” Derek coos as the diaper falls away. He bends, one hand pinning Stiles down by the stomach, and licks a stripe up Stiles’ dick. Stiles hears himself let out a strangled little yelp behind his pacifier, writhing under Derek and Peter’s hands. He nearly falls and Derek gently moves him back to the playmat, spreading his legs and sitting between them so he can’t press them closed. 

Derek presses kisses to his thighs as Peter spits into his hand and begins to work Stiles’ shaft. Stiles is so overwhelmed by the sensations that he can barely even think. Derek tickles the soles of his feet gently as he continues to kiss Stiles’ completely hairless thighs and legs. 

Stiles comes into Peter’s hand without even meaning to. “Good boy,” Peter praises, kissing his forehead as he withdraws. Stiles can see him cleaning his hand with baby wipes. He’s so busy watching Peter that it takes him completely by surprise when Derek takes his now-limp cock in his mouth, sucking it a little to clean it off. He feels to spent to even cry out again so he just goes limp until Derek is finished and finally sits back, gently stroking Stiles’ cheek with his thumb. 

“You’re not too tired to keep playing, are you, bunny?” Derek says gently. 

Stiles whimpers. What else could they possibly do to him? 

“Yes, let’s keep playing.” Derek unzips his own jeans and draws them down to his knees with his boxers. His dick is _huge_ and Stiles starts to shake again, too afraid to even think of what’s coming. Derek lifts him, rumbling deep in his chest as if to put him at ease. 

“I know this is all so new and scary, lovie. We won’t be too rough with our play today, all right? Baby can just squirm on his daddy’s lap for a bit.” Derek sits, lowering Stiles onto his lap carefully. Stiles can feel Derek’s dick pressed against the bare skin of his ass. “There. Can Baby do it on his own, or should Daddy bounce you?” 

Stiles whines and shakes his head, silently begging Derek not to do this. Derek kisses his neck and begins to move him gently, anchoring his arms around Stiles’ waist so he can drag him back and forth. Stiles can feel Derek’s dick warm against him, digging into his skin, slipping over his crack but never actually penetrating him. “That feels so good, bunny,” Derek praises him. “You’re doing such a good job playing on Daddy’s lap.” 

Moments later Stiles feels Derek come, spurting all over Stiles’ ass and back. Derek praises him, using his hand to spread the mess all over. He even coats his hand in it and pats it over Stiles’ stomach and chest, covering Stiles in his come. 

“Hold him there,” Peter says. He’s pushed his own pants down and has his cock in his hand. As Derek holds Stiles still Peter drags his cock over Stiles’ thighs and chest, smearing him with precome. He thrusts it in and out of the crease of Stiles’ thigh, bumping Stiles’ own spent cock gently. He does most of the work with his own hand, briskly finishing himself off, and comes over Stiles’ chest, adding to the mess. 

“There,” Peter says gently, dropping to his knees so he can pet Stiles’ hair. “Now you smell like one of the pack, little one. Much better, don’t you think?” 

“Much better,” Derek agrees. 

Stiles whimpers. 

X 

After the come dries Derek and Peter dress Stiles again in the diaper and onesie. Peter leaves the room after giving Stiles a final kiss, and Derek sits with Stiles on the floor against the couch, grabbing a blanket to toss over them both. 

“We can have some quiet time now, lovie,” he whispers in Stiles’ ear. “That’s what my little bunny needs, isn’t it? Some nice quiet time with his Daddy.” 

Stiles knows that if he tries to fight Peter will come take him again, and he can’t bear that right now. He closes his eyes, resting against Derek. He can use this time to come up with a plan. He doesn’t want to wake up here tomorrow and go through all of this again. He wants to go home. 

Derek begins to pat his back, humming something under his breath. He seems much happier after their “playtime.” Stiles wonders what Derek did with his phone and clothes. He knows this is insane, right? He knows that eventually Stiles will have to go back home. 

These thoughts are interrupted by a feeling of discomfort in his lower body. He has to pee. He whines, trying to alert Derek, but Derek only hushes him and continues to pat his back. 

The feeling becomes more and more intense. Stiles begins to wriggle, trying to kick his legs against Derek. “What is it?” Derek coos. “Are you hungry again, lovie?” 

Stiles shakes his head. He jerks, moaning around his pacifier, feeling so frustrated he wants to scream. 

Derek gently squeezes the front of his diaper. “Well, I know your diaper isn’t wet. Do you want your papa?” 

Oh, God. Derek really expects him to use the diaper. Stiles sobs and, seeing no other option, releases his bladder. The warmth spreads all through the diaper and Derek pats it again, feeling the difference. “Oh, that was a nice big pee-pee! Let’s go get you changed.” 

He carries Stiles back upstairs and takes him into the nursery. Stiles doesn’t bother to fight as Derek puts him on the changing table and ties down his arms and legs—he’s too spent to actually do anything to help himself. Derek changes him quickly, then put him into a new onesie patterned with starts. “Almost done,” he coos, before pulling what looks like a large cloth bag out of the drawer. A sleep sack. Now Stiles tries to fight, but Derek gently holds him down, fitting all his limbs inside and using the Velcro to swaddle him tightly. 

“There. All ready for beddy-byes. You can sleep in Daddy’s room tonight. Papa might not like that, but Daddy wants to keep his little bunny close.” Derek beams at him as if he’s giving Stiles a special treat, then carries him from the nursery into another room. 

Derek’s bedroom is spare, with nothing but a bed, a single bookshelf, and a chest of drawers. Next to the bed is a bassinet on a soft cream rug, with a mobile of prancing lambs hanging over the top. Stiles braces himself to be placed inside, but instead Derek sits with him on the bed, adjusting him so his head is resting right over Derek’s heartbeat. 

“Daddy will tell you a bedtime story, how does that sound?” Derek smiles at him again, tracing the curve of Stiles’ cheek with his finger. “Once upon a time there was a wolf pack that lived deep in the woods. They were very happy together, and every member of the pack loved each other very much. But one day bad people who wanted to hurt the pack came. One of them tricked one of the wolves, separating him from his family and weakening his bond with his pack so he did something very foolish and told her his pack’s secrets. The bad hunters tried to burn the pack’s den and many of the wolves couldn’t escape in time.” 

The Hale fire, Stiles realizes. Derek is telling him a true story. 

“The two that survived were very sad. They wanted to stay together, so they could stay a family, but there was a problem. They were both alphas, which means they both wanted to lead. There can’t be a pack of two alphas, not without others in the pack for the alphas to lead. They didn’t know what to do. If they separated, they might become feral, all alone without a family. They couldn’t find any other wolves willing to join them, and they didn’t trust humans anymore. They had to think of a way to grow their pack that would keep them all safe. 

“They realized they needed a special little someone. A pup who would recognize both of them as alpha, who would rely on them for everything and never grow big and leave them. As long as that special someone was with them, they would be a happy family again. They started looking for their pup, going out each night to try and find him, as they worked during the day to make their den all ready for him. 

“Finally, one day, one of the wolves found the most precious little pup waiting for him. He brought him home to the other alpha, who agreed that this was the perfect pup to join their pack. They swore they would stay together forever, so they could always keep their pup safe. And do you know what happened next?” Derek bumps his nose gently against Stiles’ temple. “They _all lived happily ever after.”_

He carries Stiles over to the bassinet, giving him another kiss on the forehead before carefully nestling him inside. “Night, night, bunny. I’ll see you in the morning.” He sets the mobile spinning, then leaves the room. Stiles can’t do anything but stare upwards, until the hypnotic motion of the mobile and his own exhausted thoughts send him off into sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone for sending in such great prompts!  
> Heads up that the sexual stuff ramps up in this chapter.

When Stiles wakes up, he’s still nestled in the bassinet. He blinks sleepily upwards and sees Derek’s hand thrown over the side. Derek is asleep in bed, but has draped his hand over the side of the bassinet as if he was trying to comfort Stiles in his sleep. 

He has to pee again. He squirms a little, trying to see if he can tip the bassinet over and crawl away. The movement wakes Derek, who yawns and blinks his eyes open. When he sees Stiles staring up at him he smiles. 

“Good morning, sweet boy. Did you have a good sleep in your bassinet?” 

Stiles wrinkles his nose. It’s only been a few minutes awake, and he’s already fed up with everything. He wants the pacifier out. He wants this sleep sack removed. He _really_ wants to pee. 

Derek lifts him out of the bassinet and cuddles him tightly. “I can’t believe you slept all the way through the night. Were you having sweet dreams?” He kisses Stiles’ head, looking a little hurt at the stony expression on Stiles’ face. “Aww, what’s wrong, bunny? Is someone a grumpy boy?” He waits, but Stiles stays sulky. “Hmm. I know how we can get this little boy giggling.” 

Without waring he plunges his hand down and begins to tickle Stiles’ stomach. Stomach chokes, nearly swallowing the pacifier as Derek tickles him mercilessly. It goes on for so long that Stiles can’t hold back his bladder any longer. As soon as the diaper becomes warm and wet Derek stop, laughing a little himself as if he’s having the time of his life. 

“Did Daddy help his sweet boy go potty? Let’s go get you changed.” 

He carries Stiles out to the hallway. Peter is emerging from his bedroom shirtless, mid-yawn and hair rumpled. He sees Derek and holds out his arms. 

“Hand him over.” 

“You can have him later,” Derek protests, hugging Stiles a little closer. 

“You had him all night. This only works if we share. Baby. Now.” 

Derek looks a little sulky but carefully hands Stiles over. “He needs a new diaper.” 

“I’ll take care of it. Get his formula ready. Don’t thin it out too much with milk, he needs protein.” 

“I know, I know.” 

“How did he sleep?” 

“Good. Didn’t wake up once. I was awake half the night looking at him, though. He makes the most adorable little snuffling noises around his pacifier, and he was moving around with some dream…” 

“Wasn’t he tied down?” 

“He’s in his sleep sack. He didn’t need to be.” 

“He has to be tied down, Derek,” Peter says patiently, as if he’s explaining something to an idiot. “He could wriggle out of the sleep sack. Then he might get out of the bassinet and try to run around or do something silly to one of his daddies, and if that happens our little bunny could end up hurt.” He’s speaking to Derek, but the words are obviously targeted towards Stiles. The tone of his voice makes it clear that the only way Stiles could get _hurt_ is if he ran into one of his captors while trying to escape. 

“He wouldn’t do that,” Derek says between clenched teeth. “He’s already adjusting beautifully. It’s okay to reward him for good behavior.” 

“You’ve always been too gullible,” Peter mutters. The words seem to be a serious blow to Derek, whose face shifts into a dep scowl. He leans to give Stiles’ forehead a gentle kiss before striding away without another word. Stiles watches him go helplessly, not wanting to be left alone with Peter. 

Peter sees where his gaze is and playfully flicks his nose. “No, no, little one, this won’t do. I should be your favorite, not him. I’m much more fun.” He hoists Stiles up and carries him into the nursery. 

Stiles shivers as Peter plunks him down onto the changing table and begins to strip off his pajamas. “You are _adorable_ ,” Peter says cheerfully. “Just the sweetest little thing. Don’t you go telling your daddy I said that, he needs to think I’m being the firm one. He’s always been a little too soft for his own good, so we can pretend I’m making up for him, hmm? But when we’re alone together I can tell you what a beautiful little pup you are.” 

Peter untaps the diaper and chuckles. Stiles’ cock is at half-mast, his morning wood not quite gone yet. “Now, what is this, little bunny? Is it trying to get me to play?” 

Stiles wrinkles up his face and tries to thrash in the restraints, doing everything in his power to convey to Peter that he doesn’t want to be touched. 

“Should I tickle it?” Peter asks teasingly. “Or does it want kisses? How should Papa help his little pup?” His fingers dance over the head of Stiles’ cock and Stiles feels arousal flood through him. Peter continues to stroke him for a moment, and when he takes his hand away Stiles whimpers without meaning to. His cock is fully erect. 

“Oh, now,” Peter murmurs. “Papa can’t possibly put a new diaper on his baby while he’s like this. Hold still, bunny, Papa will take care of it.” He spits into his hand again and begins to jerk Stiles off. “See?” he coos down at Stiles. “Your papa doesn’t mind spoiling you a bit. I’ll be your favorite in no time.” 

Stiles gasps, feeling his hips rise off the table as Peter continues to jerk him. “Your daddy and I are always happy to help you feel good,” Peter continues. “Because we love you, so, so much.” 

The words, said in that silky voice, make him shudder. Suddenly Peter stops, taking his hand away from Stiles. Stiles whines in distress. “Bunny.” Peter’s voice is cajoling. “Look at me.” 

Stiles blinks up at him in confusion. 

“You need to show me you feel the same way. Do you love your papa?” 

There’s a moment’s silence as Stiles just stares at him. 

“Come one, sweetheart. You can just nod your head. Don’t you love your papa? It would be so mean not to say yes, when Papa is helping you feel so nice right now.” The words are teasing, but Stiles hears steel underneath them. If he shakes his head no, or just keeps staring at Peter, he knows Peter won’t just let him come and move on. He might do something to _teach him how to behave_ , like he’d said to Derek yesterday. 

He nods once, trying to ignore the flush that comes to his cheeks. Peter’s eyes glint with satisfaction. “That’s a good boy.” He finishes Stiles off quickly, then wipes him off and replaces his diaper. “Now, time for your breakfast!” 

X 

“There you are,” Derek says in exasperation as Peter walks Stiles into the kitchen. “His formula is going to be cold. I was about to come up to check on you.” 

“Don’t be such a mother hen. He’s fine.” Peter straps Stiles into the high chair, smoothing back the hair from his face. 

Derek frowns suspiciously and tilts his head up, sniffing at the air. His mouth falls open. “Peter—did you make him come?” 

“He was all hard underneath his diaper, the poor little thing. He needed me.” 

“We agreed to only play with him in the den!” 

“Oh, it wasn’t playing. You had left him all hard and frustrated and I just took care of it for him.” 

Derek looks legitimately pissed off. “I didn’t do anything. If you treat him like an—” he sees Stiles staring and quickly breaks off. “We shouldn’t fight in front of him,” he mutters. 

“I agree.” 

“I want alone time with him in the den tomorrow. To make up for it.” There’s an obvious challenge in Derek’s voice. 

“Tomorrow is a full moon,” Peter says, as if that should mean something. 

“Yeah. That’s why I want alone time. You know how possessive I get before a shift.” 

“And I don’t?” 

“You already had your possessive moment this morning.” Derek folds his arms, obviously not ready to budge, and Peter sighs hugely before responding. 

“Fine, Derek. Why don’t you feed him now? He’s starving.” 

Derek nods and comes over to Stiles with a bottle. He pastes a big smile on his face, as if Stiles didn’t overhear a moment of their conversation. “Here you go, pup. Daddy added some milk and a pinch of sugar to make it yummy for you.” Peter huffs at that, but Derek ignores him. 

The formula is a little more palatable today. Stiles doesn’t put up a fight as Derek tilts the bottle into his mouth—they’ll probably just remix the formula to make it like that bottle yesterday. 

“There, see?” Derek says smugly. “He loves it. Don’t you, bunny?” 

Stiles doesn’t try to answer, just keeps drinking until the bottle is empty. Derek lifts him out of the high chair and begins to pat his back firmly. After a second, Stiles realizes that he’s trying to make him burp. He tries to hold it back, but Derek’s hand is too hard on his back 

“Oh, good job!” Derek kisses his cheek. He’s swaying his hips a little bit again, as if they’re dancing. It’s oddly soothing. “Now, time for your quiet play. Let’s go give Papa a kiss bye-bye.” He carries Stiles over to Peter, who kisses his cheek and waves his fingers. 

“I’ll see you later, little one.” 

Derek carries him upstairs to the nursery. “Let’s see what toys we have for you,” he says brightly as he shifts Stiles’ weight on to his hip and opens the toybox in the corner of the room. Stiles isn’t sure what he’s expecting, but the box seems to be full of actual children’s toys—blocks, dolls, Legos, and other unidentifiable brightly-colored plastic stuff. 

“The Legos?” Derek says brightly when he sees Stiles looking. “Is that what you want? Let’s get them out.” He pulls out a huge case of Legos and unpacks them, placing Stiles on his stomach in front of them. “There you go, sweetheart. Have fun.” 

He settles himself into the rocking chair, pulling out his phone. Stiles stares at him for a moment. Derek hadn’t replaced his pacifier. Peter isn’t here—he shouldn’t be afraid. Maybe Derek is starting to realize how insane this all is 

“Derek,” he whispers. “Please—” 

Derek’s head shoots up. He looks at Stiles as if he’s never seen him before. His eyes are blank and cold and he doesn’t move or say a word, just keeps staring. 

Stiles feels himself wilt. Something about Derek’s face makes him feel tiny and afraid, like he’s facing down something much bigger and stronger than himself. It isn’t anything like Peter’s casual, explicit threats—it makes Stiles feel so much more afraid. He tilts down his head back to the Legos and pretends to start playing. 

“Good boy,” Derek murmurs. Stiles blushes bright red and doesn’t look at him. He stacks Legos randomly, really just laying as an exercise in making sure he can move his hands and legs properly. 

He’s been at it for nearly an hour when suddenly Derek is lifting him from the ground. Stiles squeaks in surprise and Derek hushes him, face tense. He slides a pacifier into Stiles’ mouth, using the attached strap to make sure it stays on his face. That isn’t fair! Stiles has been so quiet all day! 

There’s a small knock on the door and Peter leans his head in, face serious. “Derek. People are in the woods near us.” 

“I can hear them. Are they saying anything?” 

“I think they’re calling his name. It’s a search party. They’ll probably stumble out and find the house any moment.” Peter hesitates. “I’ll get rid of them. Keep him calm.” 

He ducks out again. Derek cuddles him tightly, tucking Stiles’ face into his chest. Stiles’ heart is pounding. A search party. This is it. He’s going to be found. 

He hears a very faint knock downstairs and Derek tenses. Immediately Stiles starts to scream as best he can around the pacifier, kicking and thrashing to try to get out of Derek’s arms. 

“Shh,” Derek soothes. “Easy, bunny. We have to be quiet as little mice right now so the bad people don’t find you. The bad people want to take you away from your pack. We can’t let them do that, can we?” He bounces Stiles on his hip, keeping Stiles’ face pressed firmly into his shoulder. “Don’t be scared. Daddy and Papa won’t let anyone take you away.” 

Stiles continues to scream as best he can. Derek’s face is drawn tightly with concentration, as if he’s listening to the conversation downstairs, though Stiles doesn’t see how he could possibly be able to hear it. He sighs with disgust after a moment. “Vultures,” he mutters. “Why don’t they just leave? What more could they possibly want?” After another moment, his face clears. “It’s okay, lovie. They went bye-bye. We’re all safe now.” 

Stiles screams with frustration, the sound scraping his throat, and collapses into tears in Derek’s arms. Derek holds Stiles’ tightly, swaying him back and forth. “It’s okay, lovie,” he murmurs. “Someday Daddy and Papa will take you far away from here. We’ll all go someplace wonderful with no bad memories. For any of us. Nobody will ever take Baby away from us, no, no, no.” He kisses Stiles’ wet cheeks, smoothing his hair away from his face. 

Peter knocks again and sticks his head in. “No problems. They just wanted to give us this.” He holds out a piece of paper. A missing sign. Stiles can see his own picture printed there. “They don’t even realize he disappeared from the city—they think he ran away from home. Much better for us, if you ask me.” 

Stiles feels rage swell in him. Jackson and the others must be panicking now that Stiles is missing, so they’re keeping their mouths shut about what happened. 

“Poor baby,” Derek says, seeing the expression on his face. “Our little bunny was so scared, Peter. He thought the mean bad people were going to find him.” 

Peter smiles and reaches out to take Stiles into his arms. “Well, don’t you worry, little one. Daddy and Papa won’t let anyone take you. If someone found you here and thought you should be taken away from your pack, we would just have to make sure they never left, wouldn’t we?” 

The words make Stiles dizzy with fear. There’s a glint in Peter’s eyes that is almost wolfish, and Stiles pulls away from him, reaching out beseeching towards Derek again. Derek coos at him and takes him back, unable to hide the smug happiness on his face. 

X 

He’s given another bottle for lunch, and put down in the nursery for a “nap” and then he’s taken back into the den by Derek. 

Peter is already there, pulling a bottle of lube out of the toy chest. “There he is!” he says cheerfully when he sees Stiles. “Is our little pup all rested and ready to play?” 

Stiles has the pacifier in again, but he shakes his head, looking pleadingly at Derek. Derek lets out a little _aww_ , chuckling a little as if Stiles is adorable. 

He undresses Stiles quickly, neatly folding up the diaper and placing it aside before accepting the lube from Peter. “Daddy’s just going to put some nice cream in your bottom,” he explains cheerfully to Stiles. “Can my sweet boy hold still?” 

Stiles immediately tries to thrash, but Derek pins him down. His fingers press at Stiles’ hole, smearing the lube around. Peter is undressing himself as Derek works. “Only Daddy and Papa can play with their baby’s hole,” Derek tells him seriously as he finishes up. “That’s very important.” 

Peter sits, cock fully erect, and holds out his arms to take Stiles. “Remember, just the tip,” Derek murmurs. “We can’t be too rough.” 

“I know.” Peter maneuvers Stiles onto his lap. His cock is hard under Stiles’ ass, and then Peter lifts him, positioning him right over it. He presses Stiles down gently and Stiles feels him enter Stiles slightly, pressing himself inside of Stiles just a bit. Stiles’ hole flutters a little around the head of his cock. 

“Good boy!” Derek praises him enthusiastically. “Papa’s going to play with your hole a bit more, and then his special milk will go inside you so you can be our big strong boy.” He gently removes the pacifier from Stiles’ mouth, wiping away a strand of drool as it’s removed. 

Stiles can only sit there helplessly, like a doll in Peter’s grasp. Peter moves him fractionally, never fully breaching him but just sort of teasing at his hole. Stiles has played with his own ass enough that his traitorous body responds. His own cock leaks against him until Peter takes hold of it, lightly stroking the head with his thumb just like that moment. He thrusts just a bit deeper and comes, making a mess all over Stiles’ ass. Stiles can feel it inside of him and is taken by surprise when Peter suddenly wedges a plug into him. It’s already been lubed up and isn’t very big, so it doesn’t hurt, but he cries out anyway at the shock of it, shutting his eyes. 

“Shh.” Peter kisses his cheek. “Just until it dries. Now, open your eyes, it’s time to play with Daddy.” 

Stiles opens his eyes weakly to see Derek in front of him. He’s pushed his jeans down to his knees and nudges his cock against Stiles’ lips. “Open up,” he coaxes. 

Stiles presses his lips shut. 

“Go on, sweetheart. Nurse from Daddy.” 

“Go on,” Peter encourages, bringing up his free hand to press at the hinge of Stiles’ jaw. Stiles can’t help but open his mouth and Derek slips his cock in, thrusting shallowly in and out of Stiles’ mouth. Peter keeps a firm hand on Stiles’ jaw so he can’t clamp down. 

Derek doesn’t last long, and Stiles almost chokes on the flood of come when Derek is finished. “Swallow, baby!” Derek coos, cupping his hand over Stiles’ mouth. “It’s important to take all of Daddy and Papa’s special milk, it helps our pack bond. There, good boy! Now, can this sweet boy make special milkies just like Daddy and Papa?” His hand takes over where Peter’s is, stroking Stiles with teasing little tugs, and Stiles comes helplessly with a little sound of pleasure. 

X 

That night he’s powdered, re-diapered, changed into pajamas, and taken into Peter’s room to sleep. The bassinet has three straps that go over his body, pinning him down tightly. Peter gives him big kisses on the cheeks and forehead. “Night-night, little bunny. I’ll be right here if you have bad dreams.” 

Stiles _does_ have bad dreams, terrible dreams made even worse by the fact that they don’t feel terrible while he’s having them. In one dream he’s lying on the floor, while Peter and Derek take turns ticking and cooing over him. He isn’t fighting. Instead he’s giggling and cooing happily, kicking his legs up at them and feeling a deep feeling of happiness. When he wakes up in the morning, he’s smiling. He wipes it off his face before Peter can notice. 

He notices that his captors seem a little…weirder than usual. Peter sniffs him all over when he wakes him up, and when they meet Derek in the kitchen Derek sort of growls when Peter doesn’t want to hand Stiles over. Later, Derek makes a deep rumbling noise in his chest as he pushes his nose into Stiles’ hair. It’s like they’re pretending to be animals or something. He wouldn’t put it past them, but it’s _weird_. 

It’s hard to focus on that, though, because Stiles has another problem. He needs the bathroom for a much more serious reason than urine. There is no way he’s going to shit his pants like an infant. He tells himself that over and over and over…until Derek, after feeding him his lunchtime bottle turns to Peter with a frown. 

“He hasn’t gone number two yet, has he?” 

“No, I don’t think so.” 

“Hm.” Derek lifts him out of the chair and puts a hand on his stomach. “Oh, Peter’s he’s all hard here. The poor thing is trying to hold it in.” 

He pushes down, hard on Stiles’ stomach. Stiles whines in distress and tries to squirm away, but Derek is insistent. “You need to go number two, bunny. Daddy will clean you up right away, and then we’ll play with your bottom some more in the den, how about that?” 

Stiles whines and shakes his head, but it’s no good. The diaper fills, and Derek whisks him upstairs for a change, praising Stiles on how good he did making a mess in his diaper. 

After that, it’s time for playtime again. Peter tries to complain when Derek reminds him of yesterday’s deal, but Derek is insistent. “Special time for Baby and Daddy is very important,” he whispers conspiratorially to Stiles as he carries him into the den. “Papa will just have to wait, won’t he?” 

Like yesterday he takes out the lube, undresses Stiles, and slaters the lube around his hole. “Today Daddy gets to tease his baby’s hole a little. And if Baby is a good boy, Daddy will put a nice little buzzing toy in his bottom for him to have some fun with before night-night.” 

When he lowers Stiles onto his lap his cock slips neatly into Stiles’ hole, which seems to open up almost greedily for it. “Good boy,” Derek murmurs. “You’re perfectly made to fit your Daddy, aren’t you? Such a good pup for us.” He slips in a little deeper and groans. “God, that’s good. So tight. Just a little more now…” 

Stiles feels himself panic a little at the obvious lust in Derek’s voice. He clenches involuntarily, squeezing Derek’s cock, and a noise of animalistic pleasure comes out of Derek’s mouth. His teeth graze at Stiles’ ear as he suddenly forces himself in deep, so deep Stiles feels the meat of his ass slapping against Derek’s testicles. Stiles gasps at the sudden pain of it. Derek growls and thrusts, bouncing Stiles up and down on his lap, until he comes with something like a howl. 

Stiles is making little whimpering sounds, face wet with tears. Derek tries to soothe him as he pulls out. “Oh, bunny, I’m sorry. Daddy got a little too rough there, didn’t I? You were just being such a good little pup and Daddy couldn’t help himself.” 

There’s the sound of a throat clearing and Stiles looks up weakly to see Peter leaning against the doorframe, a wry expression on his face. “‘No, Peter,’” he says in a high, mocking voice, evidently supposed to be Derek. “‘You’re too rough with him. You go too far. He has to be eased into things.’ Right. Did you stretch him at all before that little endeavor?” 

“A little. I couldn’t help it,” Derek says defensively. Stiles can feel his hand moving all over Stiles’ ass, which is a little sore, but not as much as it really should be given what just happened. “He’s just so perfect. Besides, it’s the full moon.” 

“True. And speaking of. The moon will be up soon. Help his poor little cock there and then we have to go.” 

“Another moment,” Derek says, arms around Stiles protectively. “He needs cuddles.” 

Stiles sniffles pathetically. Derek kisses his cheek again, deftly wedging the plug from yesterday back into his ass. Stiles closes his eyes as Derek’s words of praise sink into his head, until they’re all he can hear.


	3. Chapter 3

Derek comforts him for a while, stroking his back and stomach and kissing his hair. Stiles’ cock wilts on its own and Derek grimaces apologetically when he sees. “Oh, I’m sorry, bunny. I didn’t mean to leave you frustrated.” He stands, hiking Stiles onto his hip. “Let’s go find Papa.” 

Peter is waiting for them in the hallway. He looks a little tense, with his arms tightly folded over his chest. “I’ll put him down,” he says, reaching for Stiles. 

“I’ve got it.” 

“No, you’ll waste another ten minutes giving him five thousand goodnight kisses. Give him here.” 

Derek sighs but kisses Stiles’ forehead. “Daddy and Papa have to go out for a little while,” he explains. “So Baby is going to have to go night-night a little early.” He hands Stiles over to Peter. “I’ll see you in the morning, lovie.” 

Peter carries Stiles upstairs, and as they go Stiles’ mind races. How long will Peter and Derek be gone? Hopefully Peter won’t tie him too tightly, so Stiles can wriggle free and make a run for it. 

Peter takes him into the nursery. “We need to make sure you sleep like a little angel, even with your daddies gone,” he tells Stiles. “That means it’s time for more sleepy powder!” 

Stiles’ heart sinks. He whimpers, shaking his head and giving Peter his most imploring eyes, but Peter doesn’t even pay attention. He produces a small glass vial from the top drawer of the changing table and takes out the stopper. “Daddy and Papa had this made special for you,” he explains to Stiles. “Or, rather, had our emissary make it special. It only works on humans. If Papa had his way, it would keep you sleeping most of the day, until you’ve learned how to behave. But your Daddy thinks it’s better for you to be awake and alert.” He shrugs and tips the powder in the vial into his hand. “If you don’t accept your place in the pack, maybe Daddy will finally start listening to me about how you should be treated. We’ll see.” 

He blows the powder right in Stiles’ face. Stiles tries to hold his breath, but it’s no good. He can feel himself getting light-headed again almost immediately. What the hell is this stuff? And why is it not affecting Peter at all? 

Peter carries him to the crib and lays him down gently, using the straps on the side to tie his hands. Stiles tries to cry out again, but all he can manage is a weak little whimper as his vision starts to go dark. 

“Night-night, little bunny,” he hears Peter whisper, and then he’s asleep. 

X 

The next morning, Stiles is disoriented when he wakes up to a gentle hand shaking his shoulder. He feels like he’s been deeply, deeply asleep and it takes a few minutes to remember where he is and what’s happened. 

“Good morning, sweetheart,” Derek whispers, lifting him from the crib. “Oh, I know you’re so sleepy, but it’s time to wake up now.” He presses a kiss to Stiles’ forehead. “I hope it wasn’t too scary sleeping alone without Daddy and Papa. We missed you so much while we were away!” 

Stiles looks away. He isn’t in the mood to play along. The memory of what Derek did to him yesterday is still fresh in his mind. He had felt like Derek was the more trustworthy one, the one who might someday feel guilt and let Stiles go, but after yesterday he isn’t sure anymore. 

And the fact that the powder hadn’t affected Peter at all last night…it freaks him out. There’s something _off_ about these two, something that goes beyond the fact that they have no problem treating Stiles like this. It’s almost like it’s _true_ ; that they’re really… 

Peter is waiting for them in the kitchen. As he gives Stiles a good-morning kiss, Stiles can’t help but notice that both of them seem a little more… _relaxed_ today. The whole scene feels almost domestic. Peter is only in his boxers, and Derek hums something as he prepares Stiles’ bottle. It’s annoying. They should be acting like proper kidnappers, not puttering around like the Brady Bunch. 

Derek tests the formula on his wrist before he brings it over to Stiles, and that casual little gesture is the final straw. Stiles can’t do this anymore. He has to fight back, he has to _get out_ … 

“No!” he croaks when the pacifier is removed. “No more, please. Let me go. Let me go, please, please!” 

Derek looks over his head at Peter and sighs. “Okay,” he says, as if he can’t even understand what Stiles is saying. “You were right.” 

Peter tips his coffee cup in Derek’s direction. “Told you.” 

“We should call Deaton.” 

“Only if he makes a house call. I don’t want to take our little bunny outside yet.” 

“My name is Stiles! I know you can hear me, I know you can understand—” 

Derek sticks the bottle in his mouth. Stiles tries to spit it out but Derek holds it firmly, keeping it there. “That’s enough fussing,” he says in what Stiles _thinks_ is supposed to be a stern voice. “You’re just grumpy because you have an empty tummy. Drink up.” 

Stiles sees no way around it, so he gulps the formula down as quickly as possible, noticing that Peter slips out of the room. When the bottle is empty Derek puts the pacifier back in before Stiles can try to yell again. 

Peter sticks his head into the kitchen, looking pleased. “Deaton’s on his way over now.” 

“So soon?” Derek seems concerned. “Wouldn’t it be better after playtime? I want him tired out so he doesn’t fight too much.” 

“We’ll hold him down if we have to. He’ll feel much better once it’s over.” 

Stiles looks back and forth between them, fear churning his stomach. What are they planning now? Who is this _Deaton_ person? He must be in on this whole thing. What if he’s even _worse_ than Peter and Derek? 

Derek walks Stiles around the kitchen, bouncing him on his hip. He looks down into Stiles’ face and smiles reassuringly. “Don’t you worry, pumpkin. A nice doctor is going to come take a look at you. He’s our very good friend and we know we can trust him.” He kisses the tip of Stiles nose and carries him into the den. He sits on the couch and hugs Stiles close to his chest, patting his back in a constant rhythm. 

It’s so oddly soothing that Stiles almost drifts off, only coming back to himself when he hears a firm knock at the front door. He jolts awake, hearing Peter greet the visitor as Deaton and lead him into the den. 

“There he is,” a deep, measured voice says. Stiles twists to see the man coming towards him, carrying a medical bag and a completely smooth expression, as if nothing about this sight is weird at all. 

Stiles’ mouth, however, falls open. He knows this man. This is the _town vet_. They’ve called a fucking _vet_ over? Are they _totally insane?_

“You have a very handsome little man here,” Deaton says as he puts his bag down on the coffee table. “I’ve spotted him in town a few times before, but he looks much better like this.” He tries to catch Stiles’ eye. “Hello, little one,” he says in a high, childish voice. “Are you my patient today?” 

“Say hi!” Derek chirps, waggling Stiles hand at the doctor. Stiles growls behind his pacifier and tries to pull away. 

“He’s having some trouble behaving,” Peter explains. “One of us feels that a firm hand is necessary, and _finally_ this morning, the other one agreed.” He gives Derek a look of fond exasperation. 

“We just want the talking curbed,” Derek says quickly. “Nothing else. Not yet.” 

“That’s easy enough to fix.” Deaton lifts supplies out of the bag, a syringe and a tube of clear liquid. “Here’s what I’m thinking. Rather than do anything too invasive or permanent, I think an injection directly into his tongue is the best approach. It will numb the entire tongue, preventing him from speaking—and, as a bonus, you won’t need to worry about him disliking the taste of his bottles. I know that was a concern for you, Derek.” 

“Will it wear off?” Peter asks. 

“In about a month. I’ve developed a numbing agent based on kanima venom that should work.” Deaton’s voice is so calm. It’s like he’s really discussing a baby; really explaining a course of necessary treatment to anxious parents. He knows this is crazy, right? Why is he playing along with these two? 

“Well, that sounds good to me. Whatever is the least traumatizing for him.” Derek looks to Peter for approval and then nods to Deaton. “Let’s do it quickly. I can hear his heartrate rising, poor baby.” 

“Hold him down, please.” Deaton pulls on gloves while Derek carefully places Stiles down on the couch and removes the pacifier. He puts an arm over Stiles’ stomach to keep him in place. 

“All right, little one.” Deaton stands over him with the now-full syringe, smiling placidy. “Open wide.” 

Stiles keeps his mouth so tightly shut his lips feel soldered. They’re going to _inject his tongue?_ No. No no no no no. He can’t let this happen. He has to get out of here _right now_. 

“Like this, bunny,” Derek coos, stretching his mouth open and sticking out his tongue as if Stiles is just confused. “Say ‘ahh’ for the nice doctor.” 

Stiles squeezes his eyes shut as if he could pretend he isn’t here. Derek continues to try and persuade him, even tickling his sides as if to get him to start giggling. Stiles shakes his head frantically, trying to curl into a ball. He wants to scream, but he knows he can’t open his mouth. 

“It’s all right, Derek,” Deaton says after a moment. “Babies can be stubborn. We’ll try it another way. Peter, with your assistance.” 

Derek’s solid weight disappears. Stiles cracks his eyes open to see Peter sitting down next to him, looking very serious. He grips Stiles’ jaw with one hand, holding him down by the chest with the other. Stiles sputters as Peter forces his mouth open. 

Deaton bends over him, reaching into his mouth with metal forceps. He catches hold of Stiles’ tongue and pulls it out. “Hold, please,” he instructs Derek briskly, and Derek grabs the forceps to hold his tongue in place. Stiles sees the syringe coming towards him and almost whites out with fear. A scream burbles in his throat just as a sharp pain pricks his tongue. 

“There!” Deaton says. “All finished.” 

The weight is removed from his body. Stiles gulps in a deep breath, feeling numbness stealing through his tongue. Immediately he bursts into tears, feeling the sobs shaking his whole frame. Immediately Derek is there trying to calm him, lifting and patting and caressing him. 

“There shouldn't be much pain,” he hears Deaton say. “But you know how babies are—they never like getting their shots. Is there anything else I can do for you today?” 

Stiles can’t bear to hear that calmly reasonable voice any more. He drowns out everything with his own sobs, going boneless against Derek as the older man continues to croon soothing words directly into his ear. 

X 

At Derek’s insistence, Stiles is allowed to “relax” for the rest of the day. There’s no playtime in the den; instead he’s constantly cradled in someone’s lap. Peter just sits there silently with him, but Derek tries to get him to cheer up—reading cutesy little storybooks with him and pressing toys into his hands and singing him nursery rhymes. 

His tongue is completely numb now. He drools all over himself whenever the pacifier is taken out, which Derek clearly finds endearing. When it’s time for his evening bottle he can’t taste the formula at all, or feel its graininess on his tongue. 

He’s taken into Derek’s room to sleep. Derek rocks him for several minutes before putting him into the bassinet. “I know it was scary today,” he tells Stiles softly. “Daddy didn’t like doing it, but Papa was getting so worried that our little boy might not be settling in well. This was a simple way to reassure him you can be our good boy without doing anything too drastic.” He rubs his stubbly cheek against Stiles’ smooth one affectionately. “We just want to take care of you, sweetheart. That’s not such a bad thing, is it?” 

Stiles turns his head away pointedly. Derek waits a moment, then sighs. “Well, it’s not quite time for beddy-byes yet. How about Daddy gives you a bath?” 

That actually _does_ sound good; Stiles hasn’t been washed at all for days. It feels like a colony of lice has taken up residence in his scalp. He nods a little and Derek treats it like the sun has just come out. “There’s my happy boy!” he coos, tickling until Stiles’ chin. 

He whisks Stiles into the bathroom, calling for Peter so he can come take pictures of “Baby’s first bathtime!” The bathroom has obviously been renovated, with a huge bathtub and granite counters. Stiles can see an army of rubber duckies sitting on the bathtub’s edge, waiting for him. 

Derek grabs what looks like a curved piece of plastic off the counter and wedges it into the tub, cutting the size of the tub in half, before turning on the water. He strips off Stiles’ onesie and diaper as Peter joins them with a camera. 

“Don’t make it too hot,” Peter cautions. 

“I’m not. Grab the baby shampoo, will you?” Derek lifts Stiles and carefully nestles him into the tub. That piece of plastic has made it so Stiles only has about two feet of space to sit in, but the water is nice and warm. Derek begins to scrub him clean with a washcloth. 

“I’ll do his hair.” Peter elbows Derek out of the way so he can squirt some shampoo onto Stiles’ scalp. His fingers as he massages it in feel _amazing_ and Stiles can’t help but smile a little. Peter’s face seems to soften when he notices it. “I think today was an important step,” he tells Derek softly. 

“I think so, too.” Derek smiles reassuringly at Stiles. “I think now we’ll all be very happy.” 

Stiles rolls his eyes internally. Then Peter is pouring water over his hair, washing out the suds, and it feels so good that for a few minutes Stiles doesn’t think anything at all. 

X 

The next morning it’s back to the usual routine. He roused, changed, fed a bottle, and taken upstairs for his solitary playtime. Peter’s brief moment of affection has passed and he watches Stiles pretend to play with appraising eyes. 

After about an hour he stands and crosses to the door, pausing to drop a kiss on Stiles’ head. “I’ll be back in a few minutes, bunny. Just running out to check the mail. Then we’ll go down to the den. You and your Daddy had a lot of fun the other day, but today it’s my turn to bounce you on my lap!” 

Stiles shudders. When Peter leaves, the door doesn’t close all the way and Stiles stares at it, thinking hard. It’s probably stupid to try anything. But he has to do _something_. They’ve proven that they don’t mind going to any and all lengths to make Stiles act like the baby they want him to be. What will happen next? And what’s going to happen in the den _today?_

No, he has to try and get away. If he doesn’t have the courage to fight, he has nothing. 

He braces his hands against the wall and shakily tries to get to his feet. He doesn’t want to completely lose the ability to walk, so the most important thing to do is get his strength back. Even if he can just do this in secret for a few days, he can get up the strength to make a run for it when he has a better chance. 

It takes a few shaky minutes to get his legs under him, but soon enough he’s standing on his own two feet. He feels himself grin hugely around the pacifier. For the first time, he feels _normal_ , like he’s a grown-up again. He starts to take a step forward, wanting to see how fast he can move. 

Then the door opens. It takes him by surprise and he stumbles, losing his balance and falling onto his butt. Peter is standing there, looking down at him disapprovingly. 

“Well, well. I see someone still doesn’t know how to behave.” 

Stiles whimpers, widening his eyes and trying to look as innocent as possible. 

“Don’t look at me like that, little one.” Peter lifts him by his armpits and carries him over to the changing table. “Really, you’re lucky I’m the one who caught you breaking the rules. Your daddy would only give you a stern look and feel bad about it for a week. Someday you’ll be grateful that I know how to _discipline_ you.” 

Stiles screws up his face, thinking he might try a few tears to try and soften him, but Peter only shakes his head. “I’m not a fool, darling. Someday I promise to treat you like a beloved little member of the pack—but right now, all I see is a misbehaving human who needs to be taught a lesson. We certainly can’t have you running around here causing trouble. You know what I think?” He tugs the fluffy socks, rolled lovingly on by Derek that morning, off of Stiles’ feet. “I think you won’t be able to run at all if you don’t have all of your toes.” 

Stiles’ eyes bug out of his head. He wheezes with fright, squirming away as best he can, but Peter only presses an elbow into his stomach and holds him still. “It’s a shame I don’t have any pliers or hedge cutters up here. Well, it’s fortunate I’m a wolf with such sharp teeth, isn’t it?” 

He grins down at Stiles, and for a second Stiles swears he sees his teeth lengthen and sharpen. He blinks furiously, trying to clear his vision, as Peter hefts his leg up into the air. 

“Hmm,” Peter continues, gripping Stiles’ big toe between his thumb and forefinger. “Ten little piggies all in a row. Which one should the big bad wolf gobble up? This little piggy?” He wiggles Stiles’ toe almost playfully. “Or maybe Papa should start with this teeny-weeny little piggy on the end and just keep going until I’m full.” His grip tights painfully, fingers twisting Stiles’ toe until it feels like it’s about to rip off. Stiles is so frozen with fear he can’t move or cry out for help. 

But somehow, help still comes. He hears pounding feet, and then his savior calling from down the hallway: “Peter? Peter! Why is his heartrate so fast? What’s wrong?” 

The door to the nursery flies open and Derek comes through, face looking legitimately frightened. He frowns at the sight in front of him. “What are you doing?” 

In the space of about one very elevated heartbeat, Stiles has to figure out how to get away from Peter. Derek’s eyes are wide and concerned, as though he doesn’t approve of what Peter’s doing, and Stiles does the only thing he can think of: he stretches out his arms beseechingly towards Derek and bursts into tears. 

“Oh, pumpkin!” Derek swoops down to pick him up and cradle him soundly against his chest. “Sh, sh, sh. Don’t cry. Daddy’s got you.” 

“For heaven’s sake, Derek,” Peter says, sounding disgusted. “That’s enough coddling.” 

“What were you doing to him?” 

“I was just explaining to the baby that trying to walk is against the rules, and if he doesn’t know how to use his feet I’m happy to modify them so he can’t.” Peter’s voice is calm, almost smug. “It was a scare tactic, that’s all. It would have worked fine if you hadn’t ruined it.” 

Stiles pitches up the intensity of his wails so Derek won’t be persuaded by Peter’s recounting of the situation. Derek turns his attention back to Stiles, cooing nonsense sounds at him and kissing his forehead and cheeks. “The poor little darling didn’t know he was doing anything wrong, did he? Babies don’t know right from wrong, that’s why we have to teach him. Just say ‘no’ very firmly and push him down. He’ll learn eventually.” 

“And if he doesn’t?” 

“He _will_. Won’t you, sweetie-pie? Yes, you will.” Derek nuzzles lovingly against the side of Stiles’ head. “You were being very mean to him. Apologize.” 

“I absolutely will not. Stop being so overprotective and give him back here so we can continue our conversation.” 

Stiles ups the ante again, letting his cries come like screams that scrape his throat and clinging to Derek tightly. Just as he’d hoped, Derek is helpless to resist. “I think Papa needs a time-out,” he coos to Stiles. “Come with Daddy now.” 

He takes Stiles from the room, ignoring Peter’s exasperated sigh. For a moment Stiles is worried they’re going to the den, but instead Derek takes him back to Derek’s own room and sits with him on the bed. “This is a room just for Daddy and his baby,” he whispers conspiratorially to Stiles. “No Papa allowed.” 

Stiles continues to cry. He’s not faking it anymore—now that some of the adrenaline has worn off he feels the horror of the situation wash over him again and again. No matter what Peter says to Derek, Stiles is _sure_ he was really going to hurt him. If Derek hadn’t gotten there in time… 

Derek produces a handkerchief from his pocket and wipes Stiles face and nose. He devotes the next hour to soothing Stiles, cradling him and rocking him back and forth, humming and cooing and murmuring gentle words of comfort. Eventually Stiles stops crying and just nestles against Derek’s chest, letting himself be coddled. 

“There,” Derek finally says. “Is my sweet boy all better now?” 

Stiles sniffles. He wishes he could fall asleep just like this, all cozy in Derek’s arms, and wake up still safely there. Derek, at least, wants to protect him. He’s not nearly as bad as Peter. 

Derek’s fingers dance over his stomach in light, teasing little tickles. “I know what we’ll do. Let’s go have a bottle to make this little tummy nice and happy. And _maybe_ , if a special little someone drinks it all without complaining, Daddy will give you a yummy treat, too.” Derek smacks a big kiss on the top of his head and stands, adjusting Stiles so he’s still being held comfortably. 

In the hallway they meet Peter, coming out of his own bedroom. He raises an eyebrow at the way Stiles is all snuggled up in Derek’s arms. “Has he been spoiled to within an inch of his life yet, or have you grown bored and decided to give him back to me for his discipline?” 

Stiles whimpers and clings tightly to Derek, nuzzling against Derek’s neck imploringly. Derek kisses the top of his head. “You almost traumatized him.” 

“I am trying to ensure compliance, nephew. Fear is a very effective motivator.” 

“He doesn’t need to be afraid of us to want to behave.” Derek noses again at Stiles’ hair and Stiles sighs at how nice it feels, rubbing his cheek against Derek’s shoulder involuntarily. Derek smells so good, deep and woodsy and warm. Has he always smelled that good, or is Stiles only noticing it now? “We’re not unlovable, Peter,” Derek says softly. 

“You’re naïve.” Peter’s voice is suddenly sharp. “He despises you as much as he does me. Soon enough you’ll see that I’m right, and then you’ll let me deal with him as I see fit, so we have a lovely well-behaved little pup on our hands.” 

Derek huffs, one hand cupping the back of Stiles’ head protectively. “Maybe you’re right, Peter. But for now, we do things _my_ way. Now, I promised him a bottle, and that’s what he’s going to get.” Derek turns on his heel and marches downstairs with Stiles. If Stiles didn’t have a pacifier in, he would almost have been tempted to stick his tongue out at Peter. 

Derek puts him in the high chair as the bottle is prepared, but Stiles doesn’t make a peep or struggle a bit. Peter comes into the kitchen after them, leaning against the entryway, and Stiles suckles the bottle enthusiastically so Peter can’t say a word about his behavior. Derek looks smugly at Peter as Stiles drinks obediently. 

“See?” 

Peter only rolls his eyes. Derek takes the bottle away and goes to the fridge. “Now, since the little pup was so good, I think he deserves some dessert!” He presents Stiles with a chocolate pudding cup, pulling a rubber red spoon out of the silverware drawer. 

“Oh, good,” Peter mutters. “Completely destroy his diet because he batted his eyelashes at you. Brilliant leadership, Derek.” 

“We’ll just see if he likes it. Here you go, sweetie. Open wide!” 

Stiles does. With his tongue numbed he can only just taste the chocolate, but it feels so good to be eating something solid. Derek is looking searchingly at him, and Stiles wants to convince him that he liked it, so he gives Derek a big, drooly grin. 

“There, see? He loves it!” Derek feeds him another bite. Stiles beams at him, even giggling a little as the sugar hits him. This is the best thing to happen to him in a week. He sucks at the spoon, not wanting to let it go from his mouth. It’s sort of hard to maneuver it with his tongue so numb and Derek coos at him when some of the puddling slides back over his lips, using the spoon to gently push it back in. 

“Here’s another bite!” Derek zooms the spoon towards his mouth like an airplane and Stiles accepts it eagerly. “What do you think, sweetheart? Not too bad, is it?” 

Stiles nods enthusiastically. He forgets himself and tries to say “good!” so Derek will give him more, but with his tongue sedated all that comes out is a garbled, loud, “Guh!” 

Derek looks ready to melt over him. “That’s my precious boy,” he croons, scraping the pudding cup with the spoon to make sure Stiles gets it all. 

After Stiles’ mouth is wiped off Derek lifts him from the rocking chair and carries him towards the den. Stiles’ heart sinks a little—he was hoping for another day’s reprieve—but he doesn’t want to blow all of his hard work by making a fuss. Derek takes off his onesie, cooing reassuringly to him. “I think you’ll feel even better once playtime is over,” he whispers. “Do you want to play on Daddy’s lap again, pumpkin?” 

If Stiles says no, he can almost imagine the look of disappointment on Derek’s face, and he can’t bear the thought of that. He smiles at Derek, reaching up towards him, and is rewarded by a look of absolute delight on Derek’s face. 

Derek fingers him open, using a generous amount of lube, cooing to Stiles about how cute his little pucker is. He’s much more careful today as he lowers Stiles onto his cock, sliding in deeply but not too roughly. 

“So good, pumpkin,” Derek praises. “Can you bounce on Daddy’s lap now? Just up and down a little, sweetheart.” 

Stiles tries as best he can. He squirms, pushing against Derek’s legs to try and move himself up and down. He can feel Peter watching from the doorway and he wants to show he _can_ be good for Derek, without any of Peter’s “discipline” required. It’s not forever, he tells himself. It’s just to make them think he’s behaving. The happy feeling in his stomach whenever Derek praises him is just a natural reaction to knowing he’s with someone who won’t hurt him. 

“That’s enough,” Derek whispers in his ear, pulling out of him. Stiles whines at the sudden loss and Derek soothes him, laying him across his legs and finishing himself off with a few firm strokes. His come splatters Stiles’ chest. 

“You liked that, didn’t you?” Derek beams at him, lifting him up again so he can cuddle him. Stiles squirms a little. He’s hard himself now and he wants Derek to take care of it. 

Derek notices his erection and laughs. “All right, bunny, let’s help you feel good. Do you want Papa to play with you now? Or would you rather Daddy?” 

Stiles _definitely_ doesn’t want Peter touching him. He gives Derek his most imploring eyes, and, to really sell it, works hard to move his tongue enough to slur out, “Da-ah.” 

Derek’s expression is almost moony, eyes big and love-struck as he squeezes Stiles tightly. “All right, sweetheart, Daddy will take care of you. Just for today.” He looks up at Peter, an almost-stern expression on his face. “Papa will get to play again tomorrow, as long as he’s nice to our little bunny.” 

“As you command,” Peter days drily. He pushes away from the wall and leaves the room. Stiles thinks he almost seems amused, but that wouldn’t make much sense. He’s probably just trying to hide his annoyance. Well, he can just be as annoyed as he wants. Derek won’t let him hurt Stiles. 

Stiles closes his eyes as Derek jerks him off, feeling aroused and contented and—as crazy as it sounds— _safe_.


	4. Chapter 4

For the rest of the day, Stiles only lets Derek be the one to take care of him. Whenever Derek tries to hand him over to Peter Stiles makes a fuss, wriggling and whining and stretching out his arms for Derek, and Derek always quickly takes him back. 

Stiles can tell it makes Derek happy, to be the one Stiles clings to. His every gesture and word to Stiles is saturated with adoration. It’s a strange thing, to be the subject of so much happiness and affection. Even in this situation, it’s powerful. Stiles can’t help but respond to it. 

Maybe it’s because he doesn’t get a lot of affection in his day-to-day life. He can’t help but soak in it now. Besides, he likes to see how much control he can exert over Derek. And it can’t hurt to turn his kidnappers against each other. If he and Derek are united against Peter, Peter and Derek can’t be united against him. 

That night he’s supposed to sleep in Peter’s room, but he throws an absolute tantrum when Derek tries to put him down in Peter’s bassinet. He screams, kicking his feet and drumming his fists, holding his breath until his face must be purple. “Noooo! _Nooooo! Dada! DADADAAA!”_

Finally Derek scoops him back up and rocks him, patting his back soothingly. “Maybe he should sleep with me,” he says to Peter, almost apologetically. “Just for tonight.” 

“If that’s what he wants,” Peter says. He doesn’t sound overly concerned, but that’s fine with Stiles. Maybe Peter will just ignore him from now on. 

The next morning Stiles tries to keep up his ruse. It works for a while, and then that horrible Deaton shows up at the door. He wants to give Stiles a “checkup,” he explains. Make sure the kanima venom, whatever that is, is working properly. 

“Why?” Derek asks sharply, holding Stiles even tighter. “It was safe, wasn’t it?” 

“Of course it was,” Peter says before Deaton—who looks downright offended at the question— can answer. “Forgive my nephew, Alan. He’s in a bit of a mother hen stage.” 

Derek doesn’t even deny it. “Actually, I’m glad you’re here,” he says, after Deaton has assured him that the shot was perfectly safe. “The baby’s being a little clingy and I’m worried he isn’t bonding properly with his papa. Every time I try to leave him with Peter he has a fit. Would you mind sitting in his nursery with him and Peter? Maybe it’ll be easier for him if someone else is there.” 

Deaton raises an eyebrow at that and exchanges a look with Peter that Stiles can’t read. “Of course, Derek. You know I’m always happy to help.” 

Stiles waits until Derek has placed him down on the nursery floor before he starts up his helpless-abandoned-infant schtick. This time, though, Derek is clearly determined to go, and after a few rounds of kisses and promises to return and pushing toys into Stiles’ hands he slips out the door. Stiles keeps wailing for a few minutes more, than quits in annoyance. Peter won’t care, and Derek isn’t going to come back. Besides, Deaton is here. Hopefully he won’t let Peter do anything too terrible. 

Still, he doesn’t want to give Peter any reason to punish him, so he grudgingly reaches for some Duplo blocks and pretends to play. 

“So,” he hears Deaton say quietly behind him. “The little one prefers Derek to you, hm?” 

“Looks that way.” 

“You’re less concerned with that than I would have expected.” 

Peter is quiet for a moment, and when he answers, his voice is so soft Stiles has to strain to hear. “He was never going to bond with both of us at the same time. The best method was to push him away from one of us, and straight into the arms of the other.” 

“I would say that’s a wise course of action. I’m just surprised you’re willing to let Derek be the one he bonds to first.” 

“Derek is the one who needs it. He kept worrying that the pup would hate him, especially in these early days when the bonding is so crucial. I could tell our dear boy is desperate for some affection, so I just engineered this for them both. Now Derek gets to think I was wrong and the little one already adores him. Best of all, now that Derek’s gotten a taste for being loved again he’ll let me do what’s necessary to keep the baby in line if he acts up. We all win.” 

“I’m impressed, Peter. You’ve grown.” 

Stiles is still moving blocks around slowly, but all his focus is on this conversation. Peter. That fucking asshole. He’d manipulated this. He’s _wanted_ this. And now he’s discussing it so carelessly, as if it doesn’t matter if Stiles hears. 

And it doesn’t, Stiles realizes with a sick feeling in his stomach. Even right now, knowing that he’s playing into Peter’s hands, he still wants Derek. He’s longing for the comfort of Derek’s arms and he doesn’t even care how happy it’ll make Peter. Peter is just showing him how much control he has, because they both know it doesn’t make a difference whether Stiles knows or not. 

That’s bad. That’s _so, so_ bad. 

“You didn’t see him before,” Peter is saying to Deaton. “After the fire. He was so…broken. He blamed himself. He thought I hated him. I thought that too, for a time, and that just made things worse. I thought he would become an omega and I would lose him forever. That’s why we chose this course of action. The two of us alone wasn’t working. He needed more affection than I’m able to give. The only thing that made him happy was imagining having a new little member of the pack, who he could keep safe forever. But then even that didn’t satisfy him completely. He was scared that the pup wouldn’t love him enough. He was constantly out looking for the right one, afraid I would find him first and have that little bit of extra bonding time with him.” Peter pauses for another long moment. “You should have seen him, when he brought the pup home. He was head over heels in love. I may not be able to give my nephew all the affection he needs, but I can give his this. And make sure he never, ever loses it.” 

That last is absolutely directed at Stiles, who shivers as he grabs another block. He thinks of how tightly Derek holds him, the soft adoration in his eyes. He’d assumed this was…fun for them. A way of getting their kicks. But Peter really seems to believe that Derek _needs_ this. 

And if that’s true…they’re not going to get bored with him. They’re going to keep him _forever._

“Besides!” Peter’s voice is suddenly loud and cheerful, and he plucks Stiles up from the floor without warning. Stiles wriggles frantically, but Peter sits down on the floor next to Deaton with him, locking his arms around Stiles’ belly. “I can be a pretty charming fellow. I’m sure the little darling will adore me in no time.” He plants a loud kiss on Stiles’ cheek, ignoring his silent struggles. 

“I’m sure,” Deaton says, sounding fondly amused as he reaches over to scrunch Stiles’ stomach. 

“Now, why don’t you tell me the real reason you’re over here? I know you didn’t just want to check on yesterday’s shot.” 

“Well, I did want to check on it. I’m still tinkering with some variations, you know, and I thought, if you were happy with it so far, I would let you know I have a new version that might be useful to you. I know he’s still able to walk, but a more concentrated dosage in the base of his spine would numb his lower body. Not permanently, of course, but I thought you might be interested in preventing him from walking for a time.” 

Peter snorts. “As tempting as it sounds, I’ll have to decline for now. I couldn’t deal with the crocodile tears….and that would just be Derek. I’ll keep it in mind, though.” 

Stiles turns an incredulous face to them both, wondering if maybe they really don’t understand that he can hear them. Peter smiles at him and kisses his cheek again. “Don’t you worry, little one,” he says sweetly. “Papa always has your best interests at heart.” 

X 

After that, Stiles doesn’t fuss as much about Derek being with him. It isn’t as fun now that he knows it’s part of Peter’s plan, and thinking of how Peter had described Derek makes him uncomfortable. 

He remembers the Hale fire, the total devastation of it. Apparently Derek believes it’s his fault for some reason. To think that he’s latched on to Stiles as some kind of replacement family…well, that’s just _a lot_. 

When “playtime” begins Derek holds Stiles on his lap and talks to Peter as if Stiles can’t hear. “He seems to be doing a little better. Let’s try and see how he does with some scent marking with you. I’ll hold him still and keep him calm.” 

Stiles whimpers and whines, pushing feebly against Derek, but Derek only hushes him and locks his arms around Stiles’ torso. Peter undresses and approaches Stiles, stroking himself until he’s hard. He drags the head of his cock over Stiles’ chest and thighs. They’ve left the diaper on and he even drags himself over the plush material teasingly, so that Stiles can only _just_ feel it. 

Then he presses himself against Stiles’ lips. “Open wide, darling,” he coaxes when Stiles presses his lips together in response. “You need to swallow.” 

Stiles shakes his head stubbornly and turns his head, scootching in Derek’s grasp until he can press his face against Derek’s warm chest. 

Peter sighs. “No, no. That’s not how we play. You need both your alphas’ scents, little one. You won’t be getting your own way this time.” 

Stiles stays exactly where he is. 

“Bunny,” Derek coos, joggling his side. “You won’t be able to play with Daddy until you let Papa play.” 

Hidden in Derek’s chest, Stiles rolls his eyes. That’s hardly an incentive. 

“Hmm.” Peter’s voice is a little deeper with disapproval, and it makes Stiles tense. “Looks like we have a misbehaving pup on our hands.” 

“Maybe he’d feel better if we gave him a toy to play with,” Derek suggests. “That might distract him enough that you can finish.” 

“I’ll go get one.” Peter leaves the room and Stiles peers out from Derek’s chest to make sure he’s gone. Derek looks down at him, trying to frown but not really managing to look angry. 

“It isn’t nice to try and hide from Papa, bunny. Papa loves you very much, and it’s important that you’re scent-marked by both your alphas. That helps keep you safe.” 

Stiles wants to roll his eyes again, but he doesn’t want to push too far and actually make Derek angry. Peter described Derek as _fragile_ , desperate for Stiles to be good, and in a way, that makes him even more dangerous than Peter. 

Peter’s footsteps return to the living room and Stiles peers out at him. He’d expected an action figure of stuffed animal or something, but Peter is holding a much different kind of toy. It’s a small bullet vibrator, already slicked up and ready to go. 

“Turn him over.” 

Stiles struggles as Derek places him down on his stomach. “Sh,” he soothes. “You’ll like this toy, sweetheart. Hold still while Papa puts it in.” 

Derek’s hands hold him down firmly. Peter parts his cheeks and works the toy inside. When he switches it on Stiles immediately stops fighting. It is _strong_ , so strong he feels his toes curl. He hears Derek chuckle fondly as he moans a little, shutting his eyes. 

“There. That’ll keep him busy.” 

Peter gently pries open his mouth and pushes himself inside. Stiles is so focused on what the vibrator is doing that he just lets his mouth hang open. Peter doesn’t seem to mind, doing all of the work himself. 

The vibrator is intense, but not enough to do everything on its own. Stiles is trying to get enough friction so he can come, but Derek has lifted him onto his lap again. He whines and wiggles against Derek, who obliges him by reaching down to rub the front of the diaper. 

“Let’s let Papa finish first,” he whispers. Stiles whines impatiently but lets Peter finish. He swallows obediently as Derek praises him, cupping a hand aground his mouth to make sure nothing spills. Derek’s hand presses down against his front, stroking him through the cushy fabric until he comes too. 

“There,” Peter says, sounding extremely satisfied as he pets Stiles’ hair. “When Papa gets to feel good, so does the pup. That’s a good deal, isn’t it, sweetheart?” 

Stiles is too wiped out to even roll his eyes again in response. 

X 

When night falls and Derek tries to put him down in Peter’s bassinet again Stiles gives him a tragic face but doesn’t start screaming. He knows he should probably be trying to ignore Derek now, throwing a fit whenever Derek tries to touch him, but…he can’t bring himself to do that. He knows how upset it would make Derek, and maybe it’s fear of Peter or something else, but he just doesn’t want that to happen. 

“That’s my little angel,” Derek praises him. He bends down to give Stiles a goodnight kiss. “Daddy will see you in the morning, bunny.” 

Stiles doesn’t like being alone in the same room as Peter, but he forces himself to breathe in and out deeply until he’s asleep. When Peter lifts him out of the bassinet in the morning he doesn’t fight, just leans against him as he’s carried into the nursery for a diaper change. He feels a little too warm and sleepy but weirdly content. 

That should scare him. That _does_ scare him. He needs to be focusing every moment on how to get out of here. 

The day is _hot_. Stiles is sweltering in today’s flannel onesie, and even his kidnappers look uncomfortable. “I think the air conditioning is buster,” Peter says as he hands Stiles over to Derek. “That’s what we get for trying to wire it ourselves.” 

“Why don’t you do take a look at it while I feed him? Poor baby is burning up.” Derek presses his lips comfortingly on Stiles’ forehead as he carries him over to the high chair. 

The warm formula is even less appetizing that normal on such a hot day and Stiles keeps whining, turning his head away from it. Derek sighs and wipes at his forehead. “You’re just too warm, aren’t you, pumpkin? Let’s get out one of your short-sleeved outfits.” He frowns at the highchair, obviously weighing the pros and cons of getting Stiles unstrapped and carrying him all the way back upstairs. “I’ll go get it for you. Sit tight.” 

Stiles leans back and closes his eyes as Derek leaves the room. He would try to get away right now if he could, but he’s strapped in too tightly. The mere fact that Derek felt comfortable enough to leave him alone for a few minutes is a good sign. If he can just keep gaining their trust… 

His thoughts are suddenly interrupted by a wailing so loud he hears himself scream involuntarily, jerking in the high chair. It thunders through his head, pounding against him in a wail of sound. It’s some kind of alarm, twenty times louder than anything he’s ever heard before. 

He hears yelling in the hall, and then a howl, as if a wild animal has been let into the house. He twists in the high chair and sees a…a _creature_ come running through the doorway. It’s twisted and hairy, running faster than any human could. Terror makes his vision white out as it heads straight towards him. Another one appears behind it, just as twisted and wrong. The wailing suddenly cuts out and all Stiles can hear is his own screams as the monster tugs him out of the high chair. It rubs its cheek against his hair, rumbling deep in its chest, and Stiles realizes— 

The rumbling. The comforting nuzzles. The strong, tight embrace. 

The monster is Derek. 

“We have to go,” Derek rasps. He’s turning, as if he’s looking for an exit, hands frantic as they press Stiles close. “We have to get out—” 

The other monster— _Peter_ reaches out to stop him. “No,” he says, voice gruff. His face is returning to normal, the hair receding and the bones seeming to twist themselves back to normal. “I was trying to tell you. It’s not a fire, Derek. The wiring was just bad. When I tried to fix it, it sparked. I already took care of it. There’s no fire.” 

“No fire?” Derek repeats. 

“No.” 

Derek shuts his eyes and sinks to the ground. “I thought…when the alarm went off…oh, god, I thought…” 

Stiles watches as his face returns to normal too. His breath comes in gasps. Their strength, the way they talk about “packs” and “pups”—they’re not insane. They’re just _werewolves_. Stiles has been kidnapped by two creatures, two monsters who will never, ever let him go… 

He starts to scream again and Derek clutches him. “Oh, sweetheart, it’s okay. We’re safe. We’re—” 

“Derek, he saw us.” Peter’s voice is quiet. “That’s why he’s screaming.” 

“Oh—oh, no. I didn’t think. I was just so scared—he was alone in here…” 

“You _left_ him alone. What were you thinking?” 

“I didn’t mean to!” Derek sounds frantic. He kisses Stiles all over, squeezing him until Stiles almost can’t breathe. “Sh, sh, sh. Daddy’s so sorry, precious. I didn’t mean for that to happen. Daddy’s sorry, Daddy’s sorry.” 

Stiles screams, arching his back to try and get off Derek’s lap. It’s a monster. It wants to _eat him_ ; hurt him; keep him locked away forever. 

“Peter, do something. Help me.” 

“Just let him get it out.” 

“But he’s…he’s going to choke or something. Please. I don’t know what to do.” Derek’s voice is trembling. Peter sighs and sits down on the floor with them, reaching out a hand to try and hold Stiles still. 

“Little one,” he says firmly, trying to hold Stiles’ gaze. “You’re having a tantrum over nothing. Daddy and Papa told you a long time ago what we are. There’s nothing to be scared of. You’re lucky to be with two people who can always keep you safe.” 

Stiles shakes his head. He’s quit screaming; there’s nobody to hear him. He feels completely exhausted, almost hollowed out. 

They can never let him go, now that he’s seen them. They can never let him tell anyone what he saw. 

He’s trapped here forever. 

X 

For the rest of the day Stiles is limp. His captors are gentle with him, especially Derek, rocking him and whispering to him and letting him rest in the crib during “playtime.” 

They talk over his head as if he can’t hear. Peter says he had been trying to fix the air conditioner when the wiring sparked. He tore it out, so they’re safe, but they won’t have air conditioner for a while. They open the big window in the living room and Derek even takes him in there so he can be comfortable while Derek holds him. 

When Derek tries to feed him from a bottle, Stiles refuses to eat. He shuts his lips tight and turns his head. He thinks he would be sick if he tried to swallow. Besides, he doesn’t want to eat. Eating means accepting that time goes on; that he’ll be here tomorrow and the next day and the next day. 

Derek frets over him, cooing and coaxing to try and get him to open his mouth. Peter tries tickling and forcing and threats but Stiles doesn’t give in. Eventually Peter even tries holding him down while Derek forces the bottle into his mouth, but Stiles spits back every drop that gets in. They finally just put him to bed in Derek’s room, in the hopes he’ll eat something the next day. 

He doesn’t. He only accepts some water that Derek gives him, when his parched throat becomes too much to stand. Derek is starting to panic, but Peter seems less concerned. 

“He’ll eat when he’s ready,” he assures Derek. “I have an idea we can use if he doesn’t behave soon. We’ll just let him relax again today.” 

It’s hard, refusing the bottle every time Derek prepares it. He’s so hungry his stomach aches. But he tries to tell himself that he can’t give in. 

When night falls, Derek doesn’t want to put him down in the bassinet. “Maybe he should sleep in the den tonight,” he says fretfully, walking Stiles back and forth across the floor. “That’s where he’s most comfortable, since it’s where we’ve bonded. He won’t be able to sleep tonight with his tummy so empty.” 

“No, Derek, he’ll be just fine. We can’t spoil him whenever he acts up.” Peter practically forces Derek to put Stiles down and then to leave the room to “let the baby stew a bit,” leaving Stiles alone. 

That night it’s hard to sleep. The hours float by painfully. He’s so hungry. Images of food swim through his dreams, so close he can almost smell and taste it. 

At some point, he feels like he’s being lifted. He frowns, starting to wake up, but someone hushes him softly. His mouth is gently pried open and something warm slips inside. 

Food. Food is warm. He tries to bite down, but his mouth is being held apart and his jaw won’t close. He whines with frustration, and then he sucks at the warm thing. 

A sweet, thick substance flows down his throat and into his belly. It feels so good he sucks again, and again, greedily, feeling as though he can’t get enough. He can barely taste it, but that’s all right; he can feel its nourishment spreading through him. God, he knows this is only a dream and he’s going to wake up to an aching stomach, but he has to get his fill _now_ ; he has to try and keep drinking… 

Then, as his belly fills and his mind starts to clear, he realizes he isn’t asleep. He’s awake, and being held tightly against a warm chest, and suckling away at— 

He blinks, sure that he must be hallucinating, and then rears away as best he can. Derek’s chest. It’s Derek holding him, pressing his face against his pecs. Stiles has been sucking at his…his _nipple_. But he had actually been drinking, hadn’t he? How is that possible? 

It’s a harness, he sees then. Derek is wearing a harness over his shoulder. There’s a bottle nestled into it with clear tube coming out of it. The tapered end of the tube is taped right next to Derek’s nipple, so that the formula flowed out when Stiles sucked at the warm nub. 

“Is Baby all full now?” Derek coos. His face is so triumphant and proud and Stiles thinks he’s going to be sick. “Let’s go tell Papa what a good job you did nursing!” 

“No need, I’m here.” Peter pokes his head into the room. “It worked?” 

“Beautifully.” Derek props Stiles up so he can begin to firmly pat his back. “He latched almost immediately. I think he got the whole bottle down. This was a brilliant idea, Peter. I was about to lose my mind worrying about his diet.” 

“Well, like I said, pups need to feel like they’re getting their nourishment directly from their alphas. I’ll do the lunchtime feeding. If he gets fussy about it we’re just going to have to be firm. I don’t want to switch back to bottles and have nipple confusion.” 

Stiles burps, shutting his eyes tight with humiliation as they both coo over him. He can’t believe he just did that. He’d…oh, god, he’d been _snuffling_ in his frantic desire to fill his belly. He will never, ever live this down. 

“He seemed very content,” Derek is telling Peter now. “I think this is a good way to bond outside of the den. Even if he doesn’t need to eat, if he’s agitated just having him nurse dry might be a good solution going forward.” 

“We can try it. But Derek, I’ll say it again so the baby can hear me—if he starts using his teeth, Deaton will have to remove them. We can’t have his stubbornness getting in the way of his nourishment.” 

Stiles shudders and instinctually burrows into Derek, trying to look as pathetic as possible. Derek responds by squeezing him and rocking him from side to side. He seems so much happier than the day before. Stiles refusing to eat really was taking a toll on him. 

That’s all just _so weird_. What is it about Stiles that Derek adores so much? 

“I’ll get him dressed,” Derek tells Peter. He dresses Stiles in a short-sleeved onesie, pausing to blow a raspberry on his belly. “Lovely baby,” he coos. “We’re going to have a much better day today, aren’t we?” 

He carries Stiles downstairs and back into the living room, where a cool breeze is blowing. Stiles stares longingly out the open window. The woods are right there, almost close enough to touch. 

So close. _So close_. 

His mind, sluggish under the strain of the past few days, starts to work again. They’re keeping the window open to keep the house cool. It’s big enough that Stiles would be able to slip through. It would have to be at a time when his kidnappers are distracted…or asleep. That way, Stiles could have enough time to get away. 

He’s been stuck upstairs in a crib every night since he got here. But he remembers last night, when Derek had considered letting him sleep downstairs in the den. It would be simple enough to get himself out of the den, through the living room, and away. 

Stiles feels himself starting to smile. Derek notices and beams back, tickling his belly. “Are you smiling for Daddy?” he coos. “Are you my happy boy today?” 

Stiles actually lets himself giggle as Derek continues to tickle him. It’s fine. He can throw Derek a bone right now. He can play along for a few more hours. 

Because tonight, he’s getting out.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm SO sorry for the delay! I got caught up in my other stories, but I'm back now. Enjoy!

When lunchtime rolls around, Peter is the one strapping on the stupid shoulder harness and lifting Stiles to his chest. Stiles struggles for a few moments, but he’s too scared of Peter to really put up a strong defense. He tries to compromise, only closing his lips around the end of the tube, but Peter clucks and forces his mouth open so he’ll have to suckle at Peter’s nipple. 

Being held this close to a shirtless Peter, Stiles finally gets a whiff of exactly how he smells, too. It’s not that bad. It’s woodsy, like Derek, but kind of spicy where Derek just smells clean. 

Focusing on that somehow makes it easier to finish eating. He hears the sucking sounds of the tube as the bottle empties and Peter finally lets him pull away. “That was so good, bunny,” he praises. “You learn so fast, don’t you?” 

Stiles scowls, hating Peter’s need to rub it in. Peter chuckles. His hand puts Stiles’ back firmly. “That’s a good thing, darling,” he tells Stiles. “You need to be smart if you want to survive in this world. When circumstances change, just keep your head down and your wits about you and eventually you’ll realize things aren’t so bad.” 

Stiles rolls his eyes, but that only seems to delight Peter. “I knew you’d start taking after me eventually,” he says cheerfully before carrying Stiles into the den. 

Derek is waiting there. He holds his arms up eagerly and Peter lowers Stiles down. “Tummy all full?” Derek coos, tickling his belly a little. 

“He’s an excellent eater,” Peter says as he settles down across from them in the loveseat. 

“He was smiling at me earlier. Can you do it again, bunny?” Derek pulls a face to try and get him to smile, but Stiles doesn’t feel like playing. He yawns instead, nestling a little into Derek’s embrace. Derek and Peter are always so _warm_. Must be a werewolf thing… 

“We need to come up with a name for him,” Peter murmurs. “We can’t keep using that idiotic nickname.” 

“Did you have something in mind?” 

“Peter Junior.” 

Derek snorts. “No.” He looks down, thumb stroking pensively over Stiles’ cheek. “It’s important,” he says quietly. “Kids at school used to make fun of him because of his name. I want him to have a fresh start here with us, with no bad memories.” 

Usually Stiles wants to scream when they talk about him like he’s not there, but Derek’s words are so surprising that he barely notices. Derek hadn’t seemed to recognize him at all when they met on the street. Had that been a lie? 

Peter sounds surprised too. “You remember that?” 

“He was a loner. I always noticed the loners. It came back to me when I saw his name on the missing poster.” Derek catches Stiles’ eye and his face soften completely, making him look young and sweet and unguarded. “All those mean people made fun of our sweet boy,” he says gently. “But now nobody will ever hurt him again.” 

Peter is watching Derek suspiciously. “Did you already have him in mind, before you found him? You weren’t… _following_ him, were you?” 

“No! I wasn’t following him. But when I saw him all alone out there, and realized I knew him…” Derek hugs Stiles a little closer, as if he’s worried Peter is going to snatch him away. “It was like he was waiting for me. It felt like fate or something. Like…like we were meant to be a family.” He meets Stiles’ gaze again and gives him what’s apparently supposed to be a reassuring smile. “I wanted you so much, as soon as I saw you,” he whispers. “ _I_ know how special you are, sweetheart.” 

The intensity of his gaze is too much for Stiles. He closes his eyes, pretending he’s just drifting off to sleep. There’s a period of silence, contented on Derek’s part and inscrutable on Peter’s. Just before Stiles accidentally falls asleep for real, Peter speaks again. 

“Hale,” he says. “I think that should be his name. Just Hale. You’re right, he’s our family now. I want his name to reflect that.” 

Stiles cracks an eye open, ready to defend his name with every grunt and frown he can muster, but Derek’s expression is so delighted he knows there won’t be any arguing on this. “Baby Hale,” Derek says softly. “It’s perfect, Peter.” He bends to press the softest of kisses to Stiles’ forehead, sighing happily as his nose bumps against Stiles’ hairline. “I love how he smells,” he says, almost dreamily. “After our scent marking he doesn’t even smell like a human anymore. That was my only concern—that he might always seem like an outsider. But he’s already so perfect.” 

“Mmhm.” Stiles can’t tell if Peter’s noncommittal response is good or bad for him. He closes his eyes again, resolved to focus only on how he’s going to get out of here tonight. 

X 

For the rest of the day, Stiles plays it safe. He doesn’t throw a fit when he uses his diaper, and when Derek places his belly-down on the floor he plays with some blocks, letting himself enjoy concentrating only on making a tower so they’ll believe he’s really having fun. He’s saving his strength for what’s coming. 

When night falls, Peter takes him from Derek and carries him into his bedroom. Stiles tenses all his muscles, and, when Peter puts him down in the bassinet, starts to scream. 

“This again?” Peter says, annoyed. “I guess you’ll be wearing your pacifier all night, then.” 

Derek hurries into the room. “What’s wrong with him? What did you do?” 

“Nothing. He’s just being ridiculous again.” Peter sighs as Derek reaches into the bassinet and lifts Stiles out. “Derek, you shouldn’t give in to him. He’s sleeping in my rom tonight. End of discussion.” 

“This is hard for him, Peter. We need to help him adjust.” Derek bounces Stiles on his hip. “Hale, sweetheart, would you like to sleep in Daddy’s room instead? Would that make you feel better?” 

Stiles only sniffles and turns his head into Derek’s shirt. “Just for tonight,” Derek tells Peter apologetically. 

Stiles stays quiet as Derek walks him into the other bedroom, but as soon as Derek starts to lower him into the second bassinet he sucks in a deep breath and starts screaming again. “Whoa, whoa!” Derek says in alarm, lifting him back out and cradling him. “What, Hale? What is it?” Peter pokes his head in, looking smug. “Derek? What are you doing to him?” 

“Nothing! Baby, why are you crying? Shh, shh.” Derek cups his crotch. “He’s not wet. Is it your tummy, honey?” 

Stiles keeps it up, scrunching his eyes shut when he can’t quite force out the tears he’s trying for. Derek’s concern is so palpable that Stiles _almost_ feels bad. Almost. 

“Maybe nursing will help settle him,” Peter suggests. 

“Maybe. Hale, bunny, do you want to go downstairs and nurse with Daddy?” 

_Bingo_. Stiles sniffles pathetically and nods against Derek’s shoulder. Derek exhales in relief and hurries downstairs with him. 

Peter prepares the milk while Derek sits with him in the den, comforting him softly. “I know how hard it is, bunny,” he whispers. “I know it’s no fun to have to go to bed so early. But we need you in our pack, and this is the only way we can have a human here with us. The last human we knew…well, that doesn’t matter. You just have to trust us, honey. It’ll be easier soon.” 

Peter enters the den with the milk and the harness. Once again, Stiles doesn’t resist nursing at the little tube, pressing his cheek against Derek’s warm chest. When it’s over, Derek burps him, rocks him for a few minutes, and carries him upstairs. 

Now it’s kind of fun. As soon as Derek’s foot hits the first stair, Stiles screams at the top of his lungs. Derek grimaces as the sheer decibel level hits his ear. “Hale! What is _wrong_ , baby?” 

“Let me take him.” Peter takes him and tries frowning down at him sternly. “Daddy and Papa are losing patience with you, little boy. It’s time to be quiet and go to bed.” 

“No!” Stiles screams. _“No up-thair! No!”_ He thrusts out his arm wildly, pointing towards the den. 

They fuss over him for a few more minutes—well, Derek fusses, and Peter looks alternatively like he’s ready to kill Stiles, Derek, or them both. “We give him a pacifier and put him to sleep in my room,” Peter snaps. “We’re the Alphas, not him. We have to be firm.” 

_Come on, Derek. Don’t let me down._

“Okay,” Derek says tragically. “I guess we have to.” 

Stiles is disappointed, but this is far from over. He isn’t going to just give up, not when he’s so close. He keeps screaming, spitting out the pacifier as soon as it enters his mouth every time Derek tries to put it in. Eventually Peter takes over, holding Stiles by the jaw so he can put the pacifier in and strap the attached band around his head. Stiles almost thinks he sees an admiring gleam in Peter’s eyes, behind his annoyance, but he probably just imagined it. 

Even with the pacifier in, he can still scream. He keeps it up as they put him down in Peter’s bassinet and leave the room, throwing himself from side to side until the bassinet almost tips over, drumming his feet and fists against the soft padding underneath him. Derek comes back into the room several times to try and soothe him. He even takes Stiles downstairs again and sits with him in the den, trying to rock him to sleep there. Stiles settles, letting himself nuzzle gratefully against Derek, but as soon as Derek tries to take him back upstairs he starts the show up again. 

It’s kind of fun, throwing a tantrum. It feels like he has all the power, even through he knows he doesn’t really. He could end this whole thing, give everyone a peaceful night’s sleep, if he really wanted to. But he doesn’t. Not yet. Not until he gets what he wants. 

After a few hours Derek and Peter both look completely frazzled. “Maybe he should just sleep down here,” Derek croaks around midnight. “He wants to be in the den. That’s a good thing. It’s where we’ve bonded. If he feels safest there, why not encourage it?” 

“Because it’s not the routine we’ve set up. He’s testing us, Derek. He was smart enough to recognize the weakness you flaunted in front of him and he’s exploiting it. Be the Alpha. Lay down the law for once.” 

“Shut up,” Derek snaps, and Stiles is pleased to think this is wearing him down enough to finally break that peaceful Daddy facade. “You’re fucking right I’m an Alpha, Peter, and I can’t sleep when my pup is in distress. I know you can’t either, so stop acting like I’m being unreasonable. He can sleep in the den tonight.” 

“We don’t have a spare bassinet.” 

“I’ll sleep on the couch with him. The poor thing’s so worn out, it’ll be much better for him to have one of us close.” 

Stiles finally stops yelling. His throat feels like raw hamburger meat, but he’s exhilarated. This is exactly what he wanted. He snuffles, curling his hands around Derek’s shirt. 

“Fine,” Peter says coldly. “I’ll see you both in the morning.” 

No, he won’t. Stiles hides his smile in Derek’s chest, feeling an eerie sense of calm as Derek snuggles down on the couch with him and drapes a blanket over them both. He yawns hugely, and Stiles surprises himself by giggling a little. “What?” Derek mumbles, eyes drooping. “You think that’s funny, Hale? You’re lucky you’re such a sweetheart, or I’d—” he yawns again in the middle of the words. His arms close around Stiles’ middle tightly, drawing him close. Stiles pretends he’s falling asleep, breathing in and out deeply, listening to the pattern of Derek’s breathing to see when he’s out for good. 

It takes a while. The house is kind of spooky this late. He thinks he can hear an owl hooting out in the woods, and it makes his stomach feel funny as he anticipates what it must be like _out there_. The woods are full of predators—the kind that won’t give him soft blankies and toys and kisses. But he has to face them down. He has to get away. 

When as hour has passed, Stiles is sure that Derek and Peter must be both deeply asleep. Derek’s arms have slackened a little, so it isn’t that hard to slowly wriggle out of their embrace. Every time Derek snuffles he freezes, waiting for his breathing to return to normal before he starts moving again. 

Finally, he’s able to drop off the couch to the carpet below without waking Derek. His every instinct screams at him to bolt as fast as he can, but he knows he has to move slowly, to keep the floor from creaking. 

It. Is. An. Eternity. He’s basically slithering on his belly, terrified every second that one of his captors will wake up and pluck him off the floor. When he finally reaches the living room and sees the window still open he nearly cries with relief. 

He abandons caution as he climbs up on the window. His legs and arms are pretty weak, and he almost crashes to the floor, but he manages to cling to the window sill by brute strength alone. He wriggles out one leg at a time and finally drops on sweet, sweet grass, the cool night air filling his lungs. 

There’s no sound from the house behind him. But he knows they won’t keep sleeping forever—he needs to be as far away as possible when they wake up. He pulls the stupid pacifier off his head and drops it unceremoniously to the dirt before getting to his feet and heading for the woods. He takes a moment to be thankful that his pajamas have socked feet. It won’t be much protection out there, but it’ll at least be something. 

X 

Two hours later, Stiles thinks he may have made a mistake. He’d figured he could go through the woods enough that they wouldn’t be able to follow him, then get out onto one of the backwoods roads and flag down a car. But in the darkness, he couldn’t really find his way. He has a terrible feeling he’d accidentally gone in the opposite direction, into the more wild mountainous area that spanned miles and miles. 

He’s so tired. And it’s so _loud_ out here. Owls and flies and croaking frogs and mosquitoes seem to be closing in on him. He starts to get paranoid that he’s about to step on a snake or something. 

Surely the sun must be rising soon. It’ll be better when he can see. He’ll feel so much safer then. 

Finally grey light starts to trickle through the overhead branches. He squints through his weary eyes, hoping to get a sense of direction, but all he sees are trees in every direction. 

Then there’s a rustling. He turns wildly, certain that something is headed his way—something huge. There’s a low snarl, and another rustle, closer by, and— 

Holy shit. 

It’s a coyote. 

It’s only feet away from him. It tenses, staring him down, obviously ready to pounce. He feels completely frozen in its stare. All he wants to do is drop to his knees and burst into tears, scream until somebody comes to help him. Is this really how he dies? Safe from the wolves; killed by a fucking _coyote?_

It strains forward, teeth bared. Then it seems to takr a whiff at him. Immediately, its whole demeanor changes. It shrinks back, looking suddenly tightened and frightened, and wheels around, disappearing with a yip. 

Stiles looks over his shoulder, certain he’s about to see another, larger predator there, but there’s nothing. It was him. _He’d_ scared the coyote away. 

How? He’s just a human… 

Then he remembers what Derek had said, hours ago. _He doesn’t even smell like a human anymore_. Had that been it? Had the coyote smelled the werewolves on him, and thought Stiles was a threat? 

If that’s true, then, as baffling as it is, Derek and Peter had just saved his life. Stiles doesn’t take any time to dwell on it. He turns and starts to run, hoping with all his might that the werewolves’ claim will keep scaring off whatever might be hiding out here. 

X 

Eventually, he has to stop and rest. He’s so tired he’s on the ground before he even registers that he isn’t running anymore. He crawls over to a tree with a large root system and curls up there, promising that he’ll just stop for a moment to catch his breath. 

Hours later, he wakes up to find that it’s dark again. If his captors are searching for him, they haven’t found him yet, but that’s the only plus he’s got. He’s so thirsty. And hungry—God, he’s so hungry for real food. He considers searching for some berries, but he doesn’t trust his own knowledge enough to actually eat anything out here. 

He rises shakily. Now that he’s miles away from the house, he has to be smarter. He dimly remembers something about being able to tell the direction he’s going by the position of the sun—but there is no sun right now, and he doesn’t remember exactly what the rule is with his head all foggy. His lower lip trembles and he thinks about how nice it would be to just have a good screaming session, like he’d had with Peter and Derek. He fights it back. He’s not an idiot. He can do this. He’ll just pick one direction and stick with it. He’ll find his way out eventually. 

X 

The woods get denser, the bugs around him louder, and Stiles is terrified. Another day has passed. He’s sweating so much that he’s sure he doesn’t smell like the werewolves anymore, and he hasn’t seen a single trace of humanity. 

When the sun is at its highest point, he decides he has to turn around. He’ll backtrack as much as he can. If it means he winds up right back where he started…fine. Right now, it’s hard to remember why he had needed to run so badly. The comforts of his captivity, soft clothes and warm baths and four walls to protect him, seem like unimaginable luxuries right now. He’s completely worn out the fabric under his feet, and they hurt so badly that he cries with every step. 

He tries his best to retrace his steps, but he’s so woozy with thirst and hunger that he can’t be sure he’s doing it right. It starts to rain, one of those hard showers that last for about ten minutes but leave him soaked to the bone. His feet are so ruined he can barely even feel them. 

When the sun sets, his hopes go with it. He hasn’t found anything to make him think he’s going in the right direction. There are no trails here that would bring any hikers. He’d tried to like rainwater off his skin, suck it from the flannel of his pajamas, but that barely made a dent in his thirst. To top it off, now that the sun has set, the night air goes straight though his wet clothes and flesh, leaving him shivering. 

He blinks. Why isn’t’ the scenery moving around him? He’s walking but everything is staying the same. Then he realizes he’s not walking anymore. His legs have given out and he’s pressed against the soggy ground, barely able to lift his head. 

It’s so dark. So dark and cold. 

He’s not going to make it out. 

The realization sinks all the way through him. He can feel his stomach drop, a strange, numbed terror spreading through his limbs. 

He’s doing to die out here. He’s going to _die_. 

It’s not fair. He just wants to be safe. He just wants to be somewhere warm, with people who care about him. Instead he’s all alone, curled up in the darkness, waiting for the end to come. 

He’s so tired he can’t even imagine himself somewhere better. He should be thinking about his dad, maybe conjuring up some old memories of his mom, but he can’t. His brain is so exhausted that only the most recent memories are coming to mind. There are only two people he can think of and long for now. All he can dream about is warm, strong arms; a broad chest for him to rest his head on; a deep voice calling him sweet little names. 

He’s too tired and scared even to cry. He closes his eyes, curled up in the fetal position, and tries to tuck his head into his chest so that, at least, can be dry. Maybe he can just go to sleep. If he dies while he’s asleep, that’s okay. He can be warm in his dreams. It’s just like how he doesn’t even feel hungry anymore. Eventually, things get so bad that you just stop feeling it. That’s something to be grateful for. 

But he can’t sleep. He can only lie there, feeling each second tick by. 

His senses are so dulled that he doesn’t hear the footsteps. Doesn’t hear the sound of relief, if there even is one. He only feels himself being lifted from the dirt. The sudden movement makes him dry heave, and as he gags, water is poured down his throat. It takes him a few moments to figure out how to drink it, but then that’s all he can do, gulping down each precious drop. 

When the stream of water stops he whines for more, and a gentle voice hushes him. He blinks, wondering if he’s just delirious or dreaming, and realizes that Peter is holding him. 

And all he can feel is relief. 

Peter has a pack hanging from his arm, where he must have been carrying the water. He pulls out a soft blue blanket and wraps Stiles up, swaddling him tightly. Stiles burrows into Peter’s chest, shivering. 

“Oh, lovie,” Peter murmurs. He presses his lips to Stiles’ forehead. They’re gentle, but somehow fierce at the same time. “Papa’s here. You’re safe, sweet boy. We’re going home.” 

Stiles closes his eyes as Peter carries him through the darkness. He doesn’t speak any more, but holds Stiles like he’s something precious. Stiles had expected that, if he was caught, they would drag him back. He’d especially expected Peter to be furious and ready to punish him. He’s glad that that doesn’t seem to be the case. He couldn’t handle anger right now. 

He wonders how Peter even knows the way back, then remembers. They’re werewolves. They’ve probably been out here tracking him. Derek’s probably out searching too. The thought of Derek suddenly makes Stiles’ chest ache. It was Derek he’d wanted so badly, when he was lying out on the forest floor. Derek’s warmth, his gentleness, his strong arms and loving voice… 

Though right now, Peter’s not bad, either. 

Eventually dawn must break. Stiles can see the pale grey of it through his eyelids. He’s almost asleep, but just before he drifts off, he hears running footsteps and a strangled gasp. “Oh—oh, my god. Oh, my baby. My baby.” 

He opens his eyes to find that they’re back at the house, and Derek is running towards them. Peter carefully lowers Stiles into his arms and Derek clutches him tightly. His eyes are bright, as if he’s about to cry. “My beautiful little boy. I was so scared. I thought…” 

His voice chokes off. He presses his forehead to Stiles’, eyes shut tightly as he breathes Stiles in. It’s such an intimate gesture that it finally makes tears spill out of Stiles’ own eyes. He’s too weak to really cry properly, and he hears himself mewling like a kitten, tears running unchecked down his cheeks. 

“Shhh,” Derek whispers, drawing the sound out until it’s like a lullaby. “Dada’s here.” He looks up at Peter. “You brought him home to me,” he says, voice unsteady. 

“Did you doubt me?” 

“I shouldn’t have. Thank you, Peter. You know I…” Derek’s voice wavers, and a muscle in his jaw jumps for a moment. “I couldn’t have lost him.” 

“Neither could I.” Peter’s voice is soft. His hand strokes over Stiles’ hair. “Let’s get him inside. Run a bath for him. I’ll call Alan and let him know he’s been found and get him a bottle.” 

_Inside_. What a beautiful word. There’s no rain inside. No bugs. No coyotes. _Inside_ is the only place he wants to be. 

X 

He drifts in and out as Peter and Derek care for him. Derek is horrified over the state of his feet and, after his bath, slathers them in some kind of ointment before bandaging them and wrapping big fluffy socks around them. Peter alternates feeding him bottles of formula and water, until his stomach aches too much to take another sip. 

“Alan will come look at him tomorrow,” Peter says softly, once Stiles has been dressed in new pajamas and swaddled in a blanket. He’s cuddled in Derek’s arms, down in the den, feeling the last of his tremors leave his body as Derek hugs him close. “I told him he should be all right until then. I just want it to be the three of us for a bit.” 

“I agree.” Derek’s hand strokes all over the blanket swaddling Stiles. The soft pressure feels kind of nice. Stiles hopes he keeps doing it until he falls asleep. “This can’t ever happen again, Peter.” 

“I know.” 

“We have to figure out how to do this better. We failed him. We’re his Alphas and we—” Derek’s voice breaks, and after a moment, he clears his throat. “There has to be a better way to help him realize he belongs here.” 

“We’ll find it,” Peter promises. “We’ll fix this, Derek.” 

Stiles doesn’t spend too much time pondering their words. Now that he’s safe, it’s too easy to fall asleep right here in Derek’s arms.

**Author's Note:**

> Accepting any and all prompts in the comments.


End file.
